


The Right Fit

by cryingoverspilledvodka



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternative Universe - London, Brexit Jokes, Explicit Sexual Content, Fit Model Yuuri, Heels, Humour, Lingerie, M/M, Model discrimination by the bitchy, Moderately Tipsy Snogging, Personal Trainer Victor, Pining, Pray for Victor's blue balls, Romance, Sex Toys, Slow Burn, Weight Issues (briefly and career specific), ish, le deuxième partie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 08:09:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15408696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryingoverspilledvodka/pseuds/cryingoverspilledvodka
Summary: Victor is a personal trainer for a prestigious gym in Chelsea, who has been having a particularly bad morning. But after meeting his newest client, Victor's day takes a turn for the better. If only everything else would stop going wrong, things might just work out.





	The Right Fit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiya/gifts).



> This is a long-awaited gift for the lovely Reiya/kazliin, who more than deserves it! I so hope you enjoy it, doll! (⺣◡⺣)♡
> 
> \---
> 
> Yuuri's lingerie: https://lovechildboudoir.com/collections/luxury-lingerie-bdsm-bondage-inspired-burlesque/products/samarkand-gold-lace-bodycage-harness

All in all, Victor was having a pretty rubbish day so far. And it wasn’t even nine yet.  
  
Victor had woken up at five thirty as per, taking Makkachin with him for their morning run. Makkachin had spent the jog around the edge of Holland Park with her tongue out, snapping at the early misting rain. It had been going rather well, until Victor turned at the edge by Holland Walk and straight into a building site that had somehow popped up overnight. After nearly colliding with the frankly feeble tape sectioning, Victor had ended up in an argument with the Polish worker over whether he would be able to pass or not.  
  
(Victor had rightfully pointed out that the large van they were using was blocking the other side of the perfectly usable road. The worker had just taken a large drag from his cigarette, shrugging his shoulders in a manner that said quite clearly _Yeah, but what of it?)_  
  
It went about as well as could be expected. Which was to say, Victor was told that if he didn’t like taking the detour, he could piss off back to Russia and whine there about it. Victor had turned and run back the long way he’d come, back to his flat in Shepherd’s Bush. And coming in, Victor had discovered Makkachin had somehow managed to get wet concrete crumbling between her paws.  
  
So that had been an extra half hour Victor didn’t really have. After a shower and plenty of kisses to his poor drying poodle, Victor had dragged his bicycle down the uneven stairs of the converted house at the end of Loftus Road, resigning himself to another shower at work as the rain had become more persistent in the last hour or so.  


So much for summer weather.  
  
Cycling through London was a special kind of stressful at the best of times, but for a city where it was miserable a good seventy percent of the time, Victor couldn’t help but feel things tended to get even worse when it rained. No one was ever prepared for it, with cars slipping and headlights off despite the dark skies. And Victor lost in the middle of it, nearly getting knocked to the kerb twice over on Old Brompton Road.  
  
Which would really have been fine. Really. If the second time hadn’t been some massive lorry bombing it through the lights and forcing Victor to swerve violently into the incredibly unpleasant puddle he’d been trying to avoid. Victor had taken one, miserable look at his splattered self and felt in desperate need of a coffee.  
  
Unfortunately, the only cafe worth going to by MX Gym, (where Victor had been expected roughly twenty-three minutes ago), had been closed for renovations and at that point, Victor was considering the whole day a complete write off before it had even started.  
  
This seemed to a pretty fair assertion to have, as when Victor walked into the reception of MX Gym, he was then greeted with the stern glare of his manager. Lilia Baranovskya was as impressive as she was terrifying, dark eyes the point of needles as she watched Victor walk up to her. Her presence was exactly what put Victor off getting coffee in the adjacent cafeteria every other morning. One glare from Lilia was enough to curdle the cream of any unfortunate latte.  
  
_‘You’re late,’_ Lilia said, Russian barbed and she crossed her elegant arms. Her dark hair was pulled back in her distinct ballet bun, tugged so tight it could almost be blamed for the squint she seemedto be constantly sporting. Victor knew better though.  
  
Lilia was just that unimpressed all the time. And doubly so with Victor, it always seemed. From behind the reception desk, Victor saw Mila throw him a sympathetic look.  
  
‘Rough morning,’ Victor said at last, unwilling to get into any of it before he at least had another shower. Lilia _tsked_ unsympathetically, reaching out a hand towards Victor. Victor stared at it, confused. ‘What?’  
  
_‘Gospodi,’_ Lilia said, rolling her eyes and snatching the gym bag from Victor’s shoulder. Victor made a small noise of protest as she manhandled him, tugging the straps off him before shoving him towards the low leather couches at the other end of the reception. ‘Your half eight meeting has been waiting for you for thirty minutes and it’s bad enough you’re late, but you can at least _try_ to look sensible.’  
  
‘Twenty five minutes,’ Victor muttered petulantly as Lilia shoved him along towards the couches, were a few people were sitting. Victor spotted a Japanese man sitting alone and took what he figured was a fair guess that said person was _Katsuki Yuuri,_ booked in for an initial meeting.  
  
Victor ran a hand through his rain frazzled hair, sighing in lament that he hadn’t gotten the chance for that shower. But it couldn’t be helped now. Victor walked over, getting his trademark smile ready. There was a reason he was the most popular personal trainer at MX for the rich and idle, and his impressive results were only one small part of it. Never hurt to be charming, especially when he happened to be wearing more London mud than anything else.  


And especially when the client looked like _that._

_That_ being exceptionally cute. Katsuki Yuuri looked up from his phone, dark hair almost down over his eyes from the sit of his beanie. He had a pair of thick-framed glasses, something not unlike the looks Victor had seen sporting around Kentish Town and when he stood up, the long grey flannel he was wearing fell down past his knees. Victor paused, hand hovering in front of him as Victor had quite forgotten what he was supposed to be doing.  
  
Katsuki Yuuri had these particularly adorable brown eyes, see, which really tied the whole round face and pink lips look together particularly nicely. And Victor was only a man, after all.  


(A man who desperately wished he’d at least had the chance to comb his hair).  
  
‘Hey, I’m Yuuri,’ Yuuri said quietly, slipping his phone into the pocket of his rolled up jeans. He reached out a hand and Victor took it. Yuuri had soft hands, Victor noted, suddenly self-conscious of his own callused ones from the weight bar.  
  
‘Victor,’ Victor said, crossing his arms as looking at how stylish Yuuri was. Victor felt another unpleasant wave of self-consciousness at his own appearance. Maybe Yuuri wouldn’t notice the blotched mud stains that crawled up the entirety of Victor’s right side? God, there wasn’t any in his hair, was there? ‘I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting. I’ll be the one looking after you for the next twelve weeks. Your company booked for you, right?’  
  
‘My agency, yeah. But I was hoping I’d get you,’ Yuuri said, before shutting his mouth with an audible _snap._ He blushed terribly, tan skin not enough to hide the deep bloom of pink on the round apples of his cheeks. Victor wanted to be sympathetic, but really, Victor’s ego took over with a delighted purr. ‘Sorry, I didn’t- I just mean, well, I’ve seen your profile on the website a-and your Instagram and…’  
  
‘Lucky us, then,’ Victor said, flashing Yuuri a wink and heart melting with the way Yuuri made a small noise after his voice trailed off. ‘I’m definitely happy to be getting you, too. Not often I get someone this cute, you know.’  
  
If Yuuri could’ve pulled the beanie he was wearing down over his face, he would’ve going by the way his hand shot up automatically to tug on the edges of it. Victor laughed, figuring it was probably best to stop teasing the poor thing. The morning was already taking a turn for the better anyway, Victor had better not push his luck. Victor threw a thumb in the direction of the cafeteria.  
  
‘Let’s grab a coffee and go over what you’d like to achieve with me, okay?’  
  
Yuuri ordered a hot chocolate with soy milk, looking quite forlorn as he refused the suggestion of marshmallows. Victor sympathetically insisted on paying for it with his employee discount, bringing both it and Victor’s own strong (strong) coffee with him as he and Yuuri sat at a table by the window. Yuuri’s eyes flitted to it every once and a while, gaze following the odd person as they walked past. Victor watched, wondering what Yuuri was looking at when he did so.  
  
‘So you’re a model?’ Victor said, typing it onto a note on his phone. Yuuri nodding, taking a small sip of his hot chocolate. ‘That must be hard going. I hear the industry can be spotty for workflow.’  
  
‘I’m a fit model for Aria, so I’ve always got somewhere to be,’ Yuuri said, like that wasn’t impressive at all. Victor gaped, but only for a moment. He was proud of that, really. Because… wow.  
  
‘Wow,’ Victor said aloud, just for good measure. He grinned, speaking without thinking. ‘I have you under my trousers!’  
  
Yuuri blinked at Victor behind his glasses, looking alarmed. Now it was Victor’s turn to blush, as embarrassment burnt hot. ‘I’m sorry?’  
  
‘Ah, I just meant- Aria underwear,’ Victor stammered, reaching for his coffee, spilling it and promptly setting it back down before he could do any more damage. Victor gestured vaguely to himself, managing to add coffee droplets to his splattered shirt. ‘Complete disaster on the outside, but designer underneath, I assure you. I like Aria, they’ve gotten really big in the last few years.’  
  
‘I don’t think you’re a disaster,’ Yuuri said kindly and Victor smiled, touched despite the sudden need to drown himself in his coffee. ‘Yeah, the ath-leisure trend has really been a boost for their loungewear. I mostly sample for their suits and dresses though. Lots of evening wear.’  
  
The image of Yuuri clad in a bespoke Aria suit, pinning Victor to the floor with a particularly sharp toed shoe suddenly burst in Victor’s mind like a firework. Victor looked away, neck flushed and ashamed. That was not very professional, but…  
  
Victor snuck a glance back when he felt a little less like his entire face might betray the thought to see Yuuri was back to watching people out the window. Victor sighed, pushing back his silver fringe and wincing when he felt it stick to his coffee-fingers. Ten minutes, if Lilia had granted Victor just ten extra minutes, he could be having coffee with the cute Yuuri and not looking like some vagrant pulled in off the street. No wonder Yuuri wasn’t looking at him, he was probably embarrassed on Victor’s behalf. Victor took a sip of his coffee, bitterly.  
  
‘Fashion Week’s in September,’ Yuuri said, turning back to Victor and looking sheepish. He fidgeted with his cup, turning it from one side to the other. Eyes fixed on the table. ‘I was back home for a while for- well, it doesn’t matter and you know what it’s like when you’re home, your mother won’t let you go without at least five meals in you at a time.’  
  
Victor laughed, knowing exactly what Yuuri meant. ‘Where’s home?’  
  
‘Hasetsu,’ Yuuri said, the word strikingly Japanese in Yuuri’s voice and bringing his accent forward in a way that kicked Victor right in the stomach. ‘It’s southern Japan, you’ve probably never heard of it.’  
  
Victor hadn’t, but he was willing to let Yuuri tell him the entire history of Hasetsu from year zero to right now, with its most adorable person sitting before him. ‘So you’re looking to get back into shape before Fashion Week?’  
  
‘I’d want to be well before then,’ Yuuri said with a scoff, taking another sip of his drink. ‘But yes, basically. Aria has this new project they’re working on with a London designer and first fittings are in about two months. I’ll need to be some level of normal by then. But I'm also walking for them this year, which is new as I haven't done a runway in a while.’  
  
‘Gotcha,’ Victor said, bringing his phone back up so he could start typing. ‘Which designer is it? Anyone I’d know?’  
  
Yuuri looked down, lifting his cup up high. Higher than necessary, covering the tip of his nose. Victor raised his eyebrows, curious but Yuuri was staring firmly at what had to be the blurry shape of his cup. ‘Ever heard of _Eros and Agape?_ They have a boutique in Long Acre.’  
  
‘I have not, but I know whatever they give you, we’ll have you looking amazing in it,’ Victor said and Yuuri looked at him nervously over the top of the hot chocolate. ‘So, tell me. And be honest, Yuuri, what’s your activity level? What are your limits?’  
  
Endless, apparently. Yuuri assured Victor that he was very active, (impromptu holidays to Japan aside), and he was willing to take any and all of Victor’s suggestions. They mapped out Yuuri’s goals, his dietary restrictions, (‘None, regrettably,’ Yuuri had said sadly. ‘I’ll eat anything. That’s half the problem’), and Victor was already choreographing in his head the perfect high-cardio plan given Yuuri’s history with dance.  
  
‘Well, Yuuri, starting today, I’m your new coach,’ Victor said brightly, reaching a hand out over the table to steal another handshake he most certainly didn’t need. Yuuri hesitated for a moment, before reaching back. ‘You’ll be everything you need to be and more by Fashion Week, I promise.’  
  
Yuuri’s hand was so soft, Victor thought again. He squeezed slightly before letting go, watching Yuuri’s smile bloom. ‘I look forward to it.’  
  
Watching Yuuri leave, (with a fetching sway to his hips that Victor followed happily with an appreciative tilt of his head), Victor suddenly felt much better about the day. After all, with someone as sweet as Yuuri wandering the streets, perhaps London wasn’t fucking Victor over too badly after all.  
  


 

* * *

Victor was fucked.

And not pleasantly either. This was the kind that didn't call back.

Over the last few weeks, Victor had gone and done something monumentally stupid. So stupid, in fact, that even Chris was beginning to lose sympathy now. And that was saying something, as Victor’s friend had a considerably high tolerance for Victor’s escapades. Of which there had been many, over Victor’s twenty-seven years. But this one? This one took the proverbial cake not allowed by Victor’s own meal plan.

Victor had gone and hooked himself with a crush on Yuuri.

Now in Victor’s defence, it was entirely Yuuri’s fault at first. He was just so cute. And handsome, god. Yuuri was handsome. The fucker had shown up his first session in tight joggers that left incredibly little to Victor’s very interested imagination on what Yuuri’s ass looked like, which was bad enough, but then Yuuri had to go further by being endearing.

Endearing. Who even was endearing anymore? Apparently, just Japanese models shacking up from the East End. That’s who.

Yuuri would do this thing. He’d push his hair from from his face, though it never stayed there and set his pouty lips together in a firm line of determination. And then Yuuri would go and do whatever Victor had suggested- by twenty.

Victor had never met anyone so single-mindedly stubborn before. That first week, Yuuri had taken one look at Victor’s exercise plan and added notes. Victor couldn’t even count on his hand the amount of times a client had edited one of his plans, because the number was zero. But there Yuuri was, adding an extra ten minutes to his run time and two reps to his core.

‘You really don’t have to push yourself so hard, Yuuri,’ Victor had said, upon Yuuri telling him that Yuuri intended to complete another set of squats with weight. ‘You have loads of time and you’re not even that far from your goal weight.’

‘It’s fine,’ Yuuri had said, smiling though there had been this precious scrunch of concentration to his nose. Victor had it burned in his memory. ‘If it’s one thing I’ve got more than appetite, it’s stamina.’

Victor felt it was about then that his thoughts about Yuuri had started to wander off the beaten running track, so to speak.

That first image of Yuuri in an imaginary Aria suit was fast being replaced by the very real Yuuri in his kit; tight-fitting Mizuno shirts that clung to the adorable pudge of Yuuri’s belly. (Privately, Victor was loath to see it shrink, as it took a little bit of the roundness of Yuuri’s cheeks with it). Joggers taut around the swell of Yuuri’s delectable thighs. The red flush of Yuuri’s face after a run. The sight of sweat trailing down Yuuri’s neck, past the collar of his dipping shirt-

It was a very small hop, skip and a jump to the idea that Yuuri would probably look best in a pair Aria briefs. Preferably, the ones Victor owned after tossing whatever Yuuri might’ve been wearing in a far off direction as they engaged in a particular kind of friendly cardio to put said stamina to the test.

As Yuuri’s coach, Victor felt it was only fair to test his limits.

But despite that, Victor was able to stay firm to said role of coach. It was, after all, what Yuuri was paying eighty pound a hour for. And Yuuri was so dedicated that it made coaching all the more rewarding really. He took everything Victor said to heart, body always loose to Victor’s corrections when Victor felt the need to step in. Three times a week, Victor had himself the most engaged student and if said student also happened to be hotter than the Bakerloo in the summer, then Victor would’ve taken that as a happy bonus. Victor had had plenty of clients he’d found attractive before, after all.

(Though not many had ever permeated Victor’s dreams before and after the fourth time Victor had woken up, hard and sweating from a dream of Yuuri bending all kinds of shapes, Victor decided to add an extra twenty minutes to his morning routine. Ethical? Probably not. But certainly better to get it out of his system before meeting Yuuri in person and accidentally saluting him).

Unfortunately, things had taken a rather severe dip just past the first month mark. Slipping out of the neat little box of I’ve Had the Odd Dirty Dream About You and rather snugly into When You Smile My Tummy Feels Like I’m About to Throw Up in The Best Way instead.

And that was really where Victor’s problems began, because the moment Victor’s (mostly) idle fantasies started to shimmy away from the familiar place of possibly letting Yuuri shag him over the reception desk if he asked and to the much more frightening idea of making Yuuri tea the morning after, kissing crumbs of toast from the cheeks Victor so admired, Victor should’ve realised he was in way over his head.

But Victor was, to put it mildly, an idiot and had not realised until it was too late.

Victor couldn’t even blame Yuuri for it either, because the thing that pushed Victor over that tentative edge was so infinitely pathetic, that when Victor told him, Chris had snorted so hard into the rosé he’d been drinking it had come out his nose.

It had been lashing, despite the sweltering heat. Because only in England would August take a turn for the damp and the streets of London had been even greyer than usual. During their session, the day had only gotten worse and Yuuri looked dolefully out the glass doors of MX with a sigh.

‘I’m going to be soaked,’ he had whined miserably, shifting the weight of his gear bag around. Yuuri hadn’t really dressed for rain, the jacket he had been wearing without a hood and light. Fashionable, as most things Yuuri wore were, but sadly, impractical.

However, this had provided Victor an unique opportunity.

‘I can drive you home,’ Victor had said brightly, Yuuri pausing in fishing his glasses out from the side pocket of his gear bag. Yuuri had looked over, curious.

‘You drive?’

‘I do on days like today,’ Victor had said, fishing the keys out from his own coat pocket and waving them at Yuuri, little doggy keychain jingling. ‘My bike’s being serviced. Just as well anyway, looking at that downpour. I can drive you home.’

Yuuri had pushed his glasses on, big brown eyes making Victor’s chest feel like something warm and soft was growing there. ‘I can’t ask you to do that, Victor. I’m miles away, down by Bethnal Green. It’s almost an hour for you to drive, more because this traffic is going to be insane.’

‘Are you saying you can’t stand my company for an hour?’ Victor had teased, just for the way Yuuri had bumbled and stammered.

‘You know that’s not it! I just don’t want you going out of your way.’

‘Please, Yuuri,’ Victor had said, putting a little extra purr on the R in Yuuri’s name for effect. Victor had noticed over their time together that Yuuri had certainly keener ears for when Victor leaned on the Russian accent. On occasions like that, it made Victor hope just the tiniest bit that Yuuri might just fancy him back. ‘You ran five miles for me today, let me do this for you.’

Yuuri had given in, after Victor promising with his fingers crossed to let Yuuri pay for the petrol cost. Yuuri’s face when he had seen Victor’s car was so entertaining, Victor was actually still regretful he hadn’t taken a picture. Though in Yuuri’s defence, the pink Cadillac was something that tended to take people by surprise.

‘This is your car?’ Yuuri had asked, baffled and surrendering his bag to Victor who placed it in the backseat with his own. ‘It’s so pink. And big. Why? How?’

After Victor had gotten over the disarming image of Yuuri possibly admiring something else big and pink of Victor’s, Victor had laughed a tad shakily, cutting Yuuri off before he could apologise for his bluntness. Victor always liked Yuuri best when he was caught by surprise. ‘I inherited it. Besides, it’s handy to have a car on hand. Especially when my students end up stranded from the rain.’

Yuuri had been right. The traffic was a nightmare, their hour journey tipping over into the two hour mark pretty quickly as they got caught in the gridlock of City. But Victor wouldn’t have traded it for anything, as it was the first time he and Yuuri had been completely alone without work between them.

With the radio playing and the rain drumming along the surface of the car, Victor had quickly lost himself to the steady temper of Yuuri’s voice. Yuuri had talked about work, the fittings coming up. Hasetsu and its beach. Dogs, which Victor had chimed in with stories about Makkachin, causing the most bashful grin from Yuuri as Yuuri confessed that seeing Makkachin on Victor’s Instagram was one of the reasons Yuuri wanted to meet him.

‘Thanks so much for this,’ Yuuri had said as they trundled through the last of the traffic, turning down onto Old Ford Road. ‘I feel dreadful, it’ll be hours before you get home.’

‘You can make it up to me and be the one to drive next time,’ Victor had said, surprised when Yuuri suddenly shrunk down in his chair. It had taken some probing, and playing dirty by pulling out some Russian, but Yuuri eventually yielded by telling Victor that he’d have to think of another way to pay Victor back, as Yuuri had failed his driving test just a week ago.

Victor couldn’t have helped it, really. Something just clicked and Victor had laughed, surprised by just how amusing he found the whole thing. Which had only served to make Victor laugh harder at himself for being so daft.

‘You failed the British driving test? Oh, Yuuri. Oh dear.’

‘You're a cyclist, what do you even need a license for anyway?’ Yuuri had grumbled, poking at the dashboard with a pout.

‘It’s an important life skill, Yuuri.’

‘I live in London, I don’t need to drive. You don’t need to drive either, you’re just- you’re just showing off!’

Maybe it had been a combination of everything. The rain, the small space, the way Yuuri had looked so bitter about it, like the UK driving institute had spited him specifically. But that one silly, meaningless moment of Yuuri calling Victor a show-off for his driving license was burned into Victor’s memory like a cigarette end. And it was in the middle of laughing at Yuuri for it, with Yuuri’s pout slowly melting to begrudging amusement as well and the car rolling up to Yuuri’s flat, that Victor had suddenly found himself short of breath.

Like all the lights in Victor’s head had gone out and he had been left stumbling around in the dark, only to promptly fall straight down into fucked, where he was currently residing.

Because sitting in his Cadillac, between Yuuri’s flat and Victoria Park on Old Ford Road, in the lashing rain, Victor had decided he wanted to help Yuuri get his license. And with that, came the very crushing realisation that Victor liked Yuuri. Proper liked him. As in, Victor not only wanted to be the one teaching these lessons, but also availing of them. In his mind’s eye, Victor could already see Yuuri’s square signature on the insurance for the Cadillac.

It had scared Victor to death. Or well, at the very least silence.

Victor was not proud of what happened next, which had basically amounted to gaping wordlessly as Yuuri let himself out of the car, retrieving his own bag to boot. Victor had watched, mind somewhere in the vicinity of the lobotomised, as Yuuri waited for Victor to say something that never came, before evidently giving up. Victor had watched the blurred image of Yuuri descend the stairs to the basement flat of one of the houses that faced the park, brain blank of everything but the single thought of bugger.

At least Victor had a few days to recover by the time their next session came around. Meaning Victor had time to call in back-up.

(Victor felt this was exactly the kind of situation that required it).

‘I’m in love with Yuuri,’ Victor said a few days after, plopping himself down dramatically into the seat across the table from Chris. Chris raised one blond eyebrow, (a talent Victor had always been envious of, as he could only ever raise his at the same time as the other), before turning back to the attractive waiter who was standing next to him.

‘Make that a bottle of rosé, _cheri,’_ Chris purred, handing the menu back primly as the waiter walked away. Chris settled back in his chair, fixing Victor with a look from behind his fashionably round glasses from Cubitts. ‘Yuuri? The model?’

Victor picked at the napkin. ’Yes. I’m in love with him.’

‘He’d be a poor excuse for a model if you weren’t,’ Chris said and Victor squawked wretchedly, not at all impressed. Chris cooed softly. ‘Oh, darling, I know. But please, being attractive is on the man’s CV. You’re not in love, you’re in lust.’

‘It’s not like that!’

‘Yes it is, don’t be daft,’ Chris continued with a sustained lack of sympathy that made Victor chew on his own lip in a pout. Victor looked out the window of the restaurant, the brilliant sunlight casting verdant shadows of the trees that lined the river. ‘I ordered you the avocado salad and even let them put the dressing on themselves, so stop sulking and enjoy the treat with me.’

‘I didn’t drive all the way out to Richmond for avocado salad, Chris.’

‘A shame really, it’s a good salad.’

‘You and I both know that’s a lie we tell ourselves.’

‘Maybe you do. I’ve ordered the buttermilk chicken, because I don’t hate myself.’

‘I want to teach Yuuri how to drive,’ Victor said just as the waiter arrived with their bottle of rosé. Chris frowned, opening his mouth, before closing it again as the waiter poured them both a glass before walking off again. Victor rested his head on his hand, watching condensation cloud the glass of wine.

‘Alright. That’s a new one,’ Chris said brightly, reaching for his rosé and taking a delicate sip. ‘I know models aren’t known for their Nobel Prizes, Victor, but surely the man can learn to put a key into ignition.’ Chris hummed to himself. ‘Unless this is just a fun way of you telling me you want his key in your ignition?’

Victor groaned, rubbing the hand over his face as he sat back in his chair. ‘Yuuri failed his driving test.’

‘Well,’ Chris snorted, swirling his glass with a grin. ‘Like I said, he is a model. Hardly swiping right for Einstein here, are you?’

‘Yuuri’s smart, Chris!’ Victor said, stung by Chris’ teasing and feeling the need to defend Yuuri from it immediately. ‘He’s been to uni and everything. Got more under his belt than I do.’

‘Here’s hoping,’ Chris grinned wickedly and Victor just about resisted the urge to throw his own rosé over Chris’ perfectly gelled curls. Chris seemed to notice, always scarily keen on picking up on Victor’s thoughts. Perhaps years of tugging and pulling on Victor’s head as a stylist had given Chris some special to peek into it. ‘Alright, _cheri._ You have lunch to tell me why you’re aiming to live out the most obscure fantasy of the sexy driving instructor and his Oxbridge model.’

Over lunch, Victor did exactly that. He tried to convey to Chris the exact way Yuuri would scrunch his nose during weighted squats, or the way his pink little tongue stuck out on discovering the protein bar Victor had handed him was regretfully peanut butter flavoured. The more Victor talked, the more he thought of as to why Yuuri was just so effortlessly lovable and how it would’ve taken an equal amount of said effort to resist that kind of charm.

Chris lasted up until Victor explained he had come to the sum of all these parts when he realised he wanted to teach Yuuri how to drive, which was when the rosé had made a frightful reappearance. With a sad poke of his salad as Chris wiped at himself, Victor asked Chris for advice on how to go about benching this particular crush seeing as a press was discouraged.

‘There’s a very easy solution to this, you know,’ Chris teased with a wink as he replaced his napkin on the table. ‘One that does not include driving around the East End with the hazards on. Well, not unless the pair of you are into that. Maybe Yuuri can stick the clutch in, you know?’

‘I don’t even know why I came,’ Victor whined and Chris shushed him with humour. ‘I just didn’t know what to do with this. I’ve never met someone I connected with like this before. And I’m supposed to see him this evening for a session and I just can’t stop thinking about what he’d look like driving my car, or brushing his teeth in my terrible bathroom.’

‘It is a really dreadful bathroom. You should speak to your landlord about that mould. I think it’s alive, darling.’

‘Could we focus please?’

‘On what? Your imaginary connection with a very hot model?’

Victor’s phone chimed from his pocket, the ping still ringing as Victor pulled it out to see a text from the source of all his anguish. His deliciously addictive anguish. Victor opened it quickly, reading Yuuri’s quick message saying he was heading to MX early, but Victor didn’t have to meet him until their session. Victor starting typing, (and backspacing, then typing again, before adding a smiley that was promptly deleted), only looking up when Chris started laughing at him again.

‘At least your model knows how to read and write,’ he said and Victor glared with what he felt was sufficient scolding. ‘You know what they say, Victor, one life skill at a time. He’ll be turning your engine in no time.’

‘You’re a bad person and I hope you get deported in Brexit,’ Victor said, gathering himself together and fishing his wallet out to pay for lunch. ‘I need to go, Yuuri is heading to the gym early.’

‘Did he forget which hand is the big one and which is the little one?’

‘This is why they voted to leave. People like you.’  
  
_‘Salut, cheri!’_

 

* * *

It was over the hour mark by the time Victor had parked in the underground carpark at MX, closing the door behind him only to realise he’d gotten his coat stuck in it when he’d tried to walk off and was promptly yanked back. It was like some cosmic curse. If Yuuri was nearby, then the chances of Victor cocking something up increased significantly. Victor knew this was likely his punishment for having inappropriate thoughts about Yuuri when he was supposed to be coaching him.  
  
_Thou shalt not imagine thy clients naked,_ God said on the first day. And those who broke the commandment were cursed with torn coats, spilled coffees and bitchy Swiss.  
  
Victor changed in record time, tugging his under armour over his head and slamming the locker closed twice over with the other hand before heading to the studio he and Yuuri usually warmed up in. He waved to Mila as she passed, Nikes skipping along the wooden floors as he came up to Studio 4. Inside, he could hear the faint bass of music. Victor glanced at himself in one of the windows of the opposing studio, brushing his fringe back with what he felt was suitable dishevelment.  
  
Victor pushed open the door to see Yuuri, spinning like a top across the polished floor of the studio in what looked like ballet slippers at the end of his joggers. Yuuri extended a leg in a broad extension, almost up over his head before landing back on the ground with a graceful _thump._ Victor froze in the door, breath stuck in his throat like a stubborn pill as his stomach twisted hotly, before dropping entirely as Yuuri bent low. Hands to his knees, then his ankles, body a gorgeous angle that gave Victor a rather impressive view.  
  
Victor squeezed his own thighs automatically, vividly remembering the fantasy Victor had indulged in that very morning in his shower. It burst in his head like a fruit, dripping sickly sweet juice like what Yuuri would look like bent over like that in Victor’s bedroom, Victor’s hands on his hips and-  
  
‘Victor?’  
  
Caught, Victor panicked as he struggled to think of what to say. Yuuri was straightened up now and the weeks of training had done most of their work already. Yuuri hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Victor at the beginning that he tended to adapt well. Yuuri was remarkably trim now, arms toned in perfect round baubles of muscle that would look sinfully good beneath Victor’s thighs and a waist so slight, Victor could probably get his whole arm around it. Twice.  
  
Victor kind of missed the curve of Yuuri’s belly though, if he was to be honest.  
  
‘I hope you didn’t come just because I was here,’ Yuuri said with a concerned frown on his face, though without his glasses, he could easily have been just squinting. But Victor felt himself grow very hot in the face, hands awkwardly swinging at his sides as Victor tried not to imagine putting them on Yuuri’s very inviting body. ‘I told you not to worry about it.’  
  
‘I could hardly leave you on your own,’ Victor said truthfully, as the idea of Yuuri being somewhere Victor could see him without consequence but Victor not _actually_ being there was too abhorrent to consider. Victor’s time with Yuuri was already so terribly limited. Victor smiled, striding across the room as Yuuri shuffled from one slippered foot to the other. ‘Besides, if it means I get to see something like that, it was more than worth it! I haven’t seen you dance before.’  
  
Yuuri flushed, dark eyes dropping to the floor. ‘It was hardly dancing. More just some old stretches.’  
  
‘Then you’d better show me a dance,’ Victor dared and Yuuri glanced at him through his dark eyelashes. ‘I’d hate to think of all that stretching going to waste. We can even call it your cardio for the day, if you like.’  
  
‘I’m not very good,’ Yuuri muttered but Victor was already walking towards the speaker to pick a song as Yuuri’s first one faded out. ‘I haven’t done lessons in almost two years.’  
  
‘I promise not to grade too harshly,’ Victor chimed happily, picking up Yuuri’s phone to scroll through. There was something intimate, Victor felt, in letting someone scroll through one’s phone. And Yuuri had been letting Victor do it for a few weeks now and each time Victor picked it up, fingers smooth on the blue case, something prickly but hot took root in his gut.  
  
Song selected, Victor turned on his heels to lean back against the wall. He wordlessly held a hand out to the floor, Yuuri watching him for a moment before he did that thing Victor fell in love with every time. Yuuri would set his lips thin, cheeks puffed just that little bit and eyes set bright with determination. When Yuuri looked like this, he looked like he could take on the world and Victor would happily let him, because Victor’s world was slowly narrowing down to the space beneath the pair of those ballet slippers.  
  
Yuuri swept into motion to the music, his body unfurling like some beautiful, fluid thing Victor couldn’t think to name. Yuuri bent to the tune, foot extended on percussion with toes pointed. Then he was moving again, turning in a spin that caught Victor’s heart by the thread and unravelled it with every turn. Victor watched, entranced.  
  
When the song trembled to its close, Yuuri had worked up a sweat. Victor liked to think Yuuri was showing off, leaping with legs stretched out so it looked like he had been flying and landing with whisper strength. Now, Yuuri stood in the centre with his arms cocooned around his body like a present Victor could unwrap. Victor shut his mouth quickly, not realising it had dropped open at some point as he made his way over.  
  
Yuuri was panting from the effort, face red with sweat trickling down the side of his way that Victor, bizarrely, had the urge to lick the line of with his suddenly very dry tongue. Instead of that, Victor just found himself staring for what had to be the millionth time as Yuuri looked up at him expectantly.  
  
‘So, coach,’ Yuuri said, voice breathy and Victor wanted to taste it. ‘Think I got my heart rate up enough?'  
  
At this point, Yuuri’s heart rate was the last thing Victor was worrying about rising, but over the last few weeks, Victor had invested in a pair of heavier joggers that hung significantly lower to grant some modesty. A wise purchase that Victor found himself appreciating keenly in this moment, as things were certainly heading south and if Yuuri were to notice, their relationship wouldn’t likely be far behind it in taking a downward turn.  
  
(Professional or otherwise).  
  
‘That was amazing!’ Victor said honestly, adoring the way Yuuri smiled against himself. ‘I wish I had known you were that good, I would’ve made you a much more personal plan!’  
  
‘You’re plan is perfect, you’re perfect,’ Yuuri laughed, before stopping cold. Victor grinned, unable to help it because sounded awfully like Yuuri just said he was _perfect._ Yuuri held his hands up, stammering. ‘Not- not like that! I mean, I’m sure you _are_ perfect like that! I’m sure you’re perfect everywhere! Oh, god, no. Not everywhere, not like- you know!’  
  
Victor could’ve helped. But he didn’t, because it was far too sweet a balm to his ego that Yuuri would blush like that, trip over his words and bunch his hands together in an anxious little bundle. Victor couldn’t stop smiling and he reached out, feeling bold. He pushed Yuuri’s hair, not really helping tame the mess of it. Just touching, for sheer the joy of doing so. It was downy under his fingers and Yuuri looked like he was holding his breath all of a sudden. Victor understood the feeling.  
  
‘I’m glad you approve,’ Victor rumbled to the best of his ability, trying to hit that purr level that made Yuuri melt like putty. Which Yuuri was doing, going by the way his shoulders drooped and he leaned slightly towards Victor. ‘But you’re the one doing all the work. I’m only as good as you’re willing to work, and you’ve done great work, Yuuri. You should see yourself.’  
  
Yuuri poked his tongue out, licking his lips and Victor sucked a breath in between his teeth. ‘That’s good to hear, as I have a fitting tomorrow for the _Eros and Agape_ project.’  
  
‘Oh?’ Victor said, only half-pushed really because Yuuri’s eyes dropped. Dark, half-mast and fixed on Victor’s lips. ‘I’m sure you’ll look great.’  
  
Yuuri huffed. ‘You say that, but you have no idea how brutal they can be. Sara Crispino designed the piece, so at least there won’t be much to work with. But…’ Yuuri trailed off, looking away from Victor’s face and the heat that had been brimming suddenly went cold. Victor cupped Yuuri’s cheek, concerned.  
  
‘Hey. Yuuri? Come back to me.’  
  
‘Sorry,’ Yuuri said quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘It’s stupid, I know I’m being stupid. But I’ve never modelled lingerie before and you should see the previous fitting models this designer had. They look like- well, they look like _you._ And despite everything, I’m not really going to measure up against that, am I? It’s not a ballgown or a three piece. Nowhere to hide.’  
  
Thankfully, Yuuri seemed to lose himself to his own thoughts there, which gave Victor a few moments to drag himself back, (kicking and screaming, to be frank), from the word _lingerie,_ which had inspired more than a few pictures to Victor’s fantasy playbook. The hand currently not holding the perfect face of Katsuki Yuuri clenched tight into a fist as Victor checked himself, casting a quick look to the studio ceiling to get some sort of a grip on himself.  
  
(No, not like that).  
  
‘Yuuri,’ Victor said gently, once his mind had come back to him with an air of mild disappointment from its delay in wandering down the garden path of Yuuri in lingerie. Victor looked closer, seeing the way Yuuri was suddenly shrinking in on himself and all possible hints of arousal went cold. Victor reached out with his other hand, taking Yuuri’s shoulder. ‘Yuuri, don’t do that. Put yourself down. I won’t have it.’  
  
‘But what if I’m still too big, Victor!’ Yuuri said desperately, looking up at Victor with those eyes. Yuuri held a closed fist to his chest and it looked so small there. Victor could probably wrap his hand around Yuuri’s wrist like a bracelet. ‘Their initial sewing is not designed to be _let out._ I’ll be kicked off the shoot at best, or sacked at worst!’  
  
At this, Victor’s stomach dropped as Yuuri’s eyes went shiny.  
  
‘I have to be perfect, Victor,’ Yuuri said thickly, voice trembling as what looked suspiciously like tears brimmed in his eyes. ‘If I’m not perfect, the whole line could go wrong. I won’t be much of a mannequin if the clothes won’t even go over me. And even if they manage to, I haven't done a catwalk since I started, really. What if I cock it all up? What if I trip and tear the whole thing off myself?’  
  
‘Hey!’ Victor snapped and Yuuri started, looking at Victor blankly. Victor held Yuuri by both shoulders, looking him in the eye. ‘You are not a mannequin. No one is. You’re a person, and a beautiful one at that. They’d be lucky if their designs were even in the same room as you.’  
  
Yuuri tilted his head, mouth quirking just a smidge. ‘Victor, that’s really sweet but-’  
  
‘Turn around,’ Victor said, stepping back and putting his hands on his own hips. Yuuri stared, mouth open. Victor nodded. ‘Turn around, okay?'  
  
‘Like this?’ Yuuri turned, frowning. Once his back was to Victor, Victor closed the distance. He reached out, wrapping both arms around Yuuri in a tight hug. Yuuri made a soft squeak, falling back against Victor, back to chest with nothing between them. Yuuri was really warm, shoulders a little bony and Victor squeezed tightly, tucking his face against Yuuri’s neck.  
  
‘The other models looked like me, yes?’ Victor asked, Yuuri nodding mutely. This close, it wouldn’t take much for Victor to put his lips on Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri smelled of sweat and stale soap. It was gorgeous. ‘And I fit over you almost twice. You’re perfect, Yuuri. The way you are or any shape you decide you want to be. And if anyone dare say otherwise, you can tell them quite accurately that your coach is double your size and willing to call the Bratva on them.’  
  
It was quiet for a moment, and then Yuuri laughed. His entire body relaxed in Victor’s arms, head tipping back to rest on Victor’s shoulder. Yuuri was surprisingly short against Victor like this and Victor wished he could keep Yuuri against his chest like this always. Yuuri shook with giggles, turning his head to try and look Victor in the eye.  
  
‘I wouldn’t say you’re double my size.’  
  
‘I’m definitely a considerable measure,’ Victor teased back and Yuuri laughed again. ‘No comment on the Bratva?’  
  
‘Oh no,’ Yuuri said, regrettably sliding out of Victor’s arms to face Victor again. Victor let him go with a heavy disappointment. ‘I better not. I’d hate to go suspiciously missing.’  
  
‘The Thames is only so deep.’ Victor winked. ‘Besides, it would be a dreadful pity to waste someone as fit as you on the bottom of it.’  
  
Yuuri took Victor’s hand then, squeezing Victor’s fingers together so his knuckles bunched. Victor beamed as Yuuri slipped his bottom lip between his teeth. ‘Thank you, Victor. Really.’  
  
‘You’re welcome, Yuuri.’ Victor tightened his hold on Yuuri’s hand, just in case Yuuri thought on pulling away. Yuuri blushed, but didn’t and something in Victor rumbled happily.  
  
‘Um, if you’re not busy on Thursday, you can come to the shoot,’ Yuuri said, eyes nervously falling to stare somewhere along Victor’s chest. ‘You don’t have to, of course! And it’ll probably be really boring for you. And they might sack me by then. Actually, never mind. Forget I asked, that was daft-’

Victor silenced Yuuri with a finger to his lips.  
  
‘I’d love to.’  
  
Then Yuuri smiled behind Victor’s lips and Victor wondered what he had ever done for someone so utterly lovely to arrive in his life.  
  


 

* * *

_  
  
_ By Wednesday afternoon, after getting a text from Yuuri confirming that no, Aria had not sacked him and he would be continuing with the _Eros and Agape_ project and would Victor still like to come to the first shoot, Victor realised that maybe- just maybe- this was a date.  
  
‘It’s not a date,’ Chris said surely to this question and Victor moped instantly, though not entirely sure if that was good or not. Chris rolled his eyes as Victor leaned on the handle of the treadmill. ‘He’s invited you to work. Work _you_ helped him maintain. It’s more like a-’ Chris put a finger on his lips. ‘A pre-date, if anything. He’s taking you out for a test run.’  
  
Victor stared at the belt of the treadmill as it spun beneath Chris’ feet, thinking.  
  
‘And if it’s a successful test-run?’  
  
Chris grinned. ‘Buy the whole car and take him on those lessons you keep banging on about.’  
  
‘I can’t do that,’ Victor sighed, blowing his fringe out of his face and trying not the think of the way Yuuri used _blushing emoji_ like a full stop. ‘It wouldn’t be appropriate.’  
  
‘Life’s too short for that nonsense, _cheri._ Especially a model’s- I hear they have the same lifespans as gnats.’  


‘What am I going to do?’ Victor whined, ignoring Chris and feeling even more sorry for himself than usual because they were rolling steadily into the three month point and Victor was still dying. Slowly, with lots of torture. The way things were going, Yuuri was continuing to become far more open and Victor was dangerously close to falling in love with every new bit of information Yuuri let slip at their sessions.  
  
Well… _more_ in love.

Chris shrugged primly, adjusting the incline of the treadmill. ‘You’re being so dramatic about this. Just ask him out proper after the shoot, it’s really not that difficult. He clearly wants you to.’

‘You know I can’t do that,’ Victor said bitterly, having the Times New Roman font of the employee handbook carved into his brain like it were stone. _Relationships are strongly discouraged between members and staff._ Others might take that to mean it was a grey area. Victor knew it to be Lilia setting a trap. One Victor was loath to fall into.

No matter how tempting the bait.  
  
(The bait was rather tempting).

‘Ask him out after his classes finish,’ Chris said, like it were that easy to suffer another month of this agony. Victor groaned about exactly that, banging his head down on the handle of Chris’ treadmill. Chris tapped his head sympathetically, making a soft cooing noise. ‘I know, _cheri._ It’s terrible. But not as terrible as those roots. You should come see me tomorrow.’

‘You’re supposed to be my friend,’ Victor said petulantly, staring straight down at Chris’ runners as they walked steadily on the treadmill belt.

‘I was your stylist first,’ Chris said teasingly, patting Victor on the shoulder so Victor looked up. ‘And while blue balls is a dreadful thing, letting my good work go brassy is even worse.’

‘I don’t have blue balls,’ Victor said, knowing it not to be strictly speaking true but frustrated none the less by Chris’ deliberate diminishing of the situation. ‘It’s not about sex.’ Chris made an unattractive snorting sound and Victor glared, hating him. ‘Fine. It’s not just about sex. If you met Yuuri, you’d understand. There’s something so special about him, Chris. He’s just so-’

‘Hot?’  
  
‘No-’  
  
‘Starving?’

Maybe. Victor pucked Chris on the shoulder. ‘I was going to say smart.’

‘Yes, I remember,’ Chris said, pressing the cooldown. ‘Your unicorn. The smart model.’

‘Don’t be mean!’

‘I’m not! I’m just saying, they’re a rare breed, _cheri.’  
  
_ ‘You’re going out with a air host! Don’t you think you’re being unfairly snobby here?’  
  
‘Hmm. True, I suppose,’ Chris said far too blithely for Victor to feel his point really got across. ‘But my air host has frequent flyer miles in his back pocket. Yuuri hasn’t even gotten his permit.’ Chris looked at Victor wickedly. ‘Yet, that is.’

‘Why do I even talk to you?’ Victor said, before looking up at the clock at the far end of the wall. ‘I have to go, Yuuri’s probably finished warming up by now and I don’t want to keep him waiting.’

‘Of course not,’ Chris grinned, giving Victor a sly look. ‘Wouldn’t want the poor thing to think you weren’t interested, now would we?’

* * *

  
  
Victor turned on the balls of his feet in the very, very small space of his bedroom to see himself fully in the mirror that was propped up against the wall. Victor had pulled out the more expensive items of his cramped wardrobe; Gucci shirt, good trousers and the Russell&Bromley loafers. All in all, Victor felt he was painting a pretty picture and if Yuuri happened to like it even half as much as Victor liked Yuuri in- well, anything, then Victor would be doing pretty alright for himself.  
  
Not that it mattered much, of course. As discussed with Chris, this was after all, _not_ a date. And at that, probably not even a pre-date. No one invited someone they fancied to a work thing, right? It was probably just Yuuri being friendly.  
  
_Friendly,_ Victor reminded himself sternly as he ran a quick swipe of argan oil through his fringe to hold it in some semblance of together. While Victor could be friendly, didn’t mean he couldn’t look good while doing so.  
  
After checking his phone obsessively over the last hour before he had to leave, Victor patted Makkachin down with regretful restraint so as not to get any dog hair on his outfit, before grabbing his sunglasses from the table by the door.  
  
Victor paused in the door, fidgeting said sunglasses.  
  
‘Is this a date?’ Victor asked Makkachin for good measure before facing the event itself. Makkachin looked up from where she was perched on the couch, tongue lolling in a curious manner. Victor shook his head. ‘No. Of course not.’  


Victor turned to leave, before Makkachin woofed softly from behind him. Victor stopped again.  


‘You’re right,’ he agreed, putting his sunglasses on. ‘Not yet. It’s not a date yet.’  
  
Victor saved on parking fees by swiping through two or three buses to Cube Studios up Camden, almost walking into a few people a couple times over he was so fixed on looking at Google Maps to make sure he had the right place. Nearly eight years in London and the place still made about as much sense as ever.  


(Meaning; none at all).  
  
Eventually though, Victor found himself standing outside the surprisingly unassuming facade of the studio, its red brick brilliantly orange in the bright sunlight of the day and door modern black glass with _CUBE_ spelled down in suitably modern font. Victor pushed at the doorbell, waiting for a response.  
  
_‘Hi! Who’s this?’  
  
_ ‘Victor Nikiforov,’ Victor replied, taking off his sunglasses and slipping them to rest on the v of where his shirt buttons where open along the top. The person on the other end of the receiver gasped suddenly.  
  
_‘Yuuri’s Victor?’  
  
_ Victor smiled, extremely pleased he had to admit. ‘Hopefully.’  
  
The door buzzed and Victor let himself in, where he was immediately accosted by a remarkably short man about Yuuri’s age, who was running at Victor with his hands waving excitedly, which caused the numerous bangles he was wearing to jingle in a manner that reminded Victor vividly of his cousin’s cat.  
  
‘Oh, wow!’ the guy said, one hand coming to rest on the top of the American-style cap he was wearing backwards over a mess of dark hair. His eyes were steely, but he grinned broadly with equally American-looking white teeth. ‘You really do look like that!’  
  
Victor blinked, glancing down at himself. ‘Like what?’  
  
‘Oh, you know,’ American said, waving a dark-skinned hand. ‘Yuuri’s type. I’m Phichit, nice to meet you!’  
  
‘Victor,’ Victor said uselessly, brain struck rather dumbly at being described as _Yuuri’s type_ as he reached out to shake the hand Phichit was offering him. Phichit nodded happily, turning to lead Victor through the reception of the place towards the back. It was smaller than Victor would’ve thought, one wall all exposed brickwork in a manner that was totally expected and the creak of old wood beneath them.  
  
They passed a small partition to find Yuuri, who was sitting at a make-up chair while wrapped in a soft dressing gown. Yuuri looked at Victor through the mirror, smiling as he turned to face Victor over the back of it, despite the anxious clicking tongue of the make-up artist who was hovering around him like a rather dramatic fly.  
  
‘Victor! You came, I’m so glad.’  
  
‘I wouldn’t have missed it,’ Victor said, watching the way Yuuri went pink under the frames of his glasses. The make-up artist tsked loudly, no doubt displeased by the blush ruining whatever palette the guy had planned, but Victor found it very hard to feel sorry for him. Who’d want to cover something as charming as that anyway? ‘You were right before, outfit isn’t much to be working with. Can’t believe we worked so hard just for you to hide behind all that cotton.’  
  
‘Very funny,’ Yuuri replied with a gorgeous smile, something that shot right through Victor’s chest. Another page in Victor’s ever evolving mental diary, it would seem. ‘Thanks for keeping an eye out, Phichit. I know this place can be awkward to find.’  
  
‘I’d say Victor had good incentive,’ Phichit chirped happily, patting Victor on the shoulder before walking past him further back into the building. ‘I’m going to turn the heating on, minimise the goosebumps I’ll have to brush out in editing. Also hopefully to keep Mickey quiet. Ten minutes, got it, Georgi?’  
  
_‘Da, da,’_ Georgi drawled, catching Victor by surprise. Yuuri looked between them as Georgi stabbed what looked like an eyeshadow palette with extreme prejudice. Yuuri turned back to the mirror, but watched Victor through the reflection, even as Georgi yanked his glasses off.  
  
‘Georgi’s Russian, too,’ Yuuri said with a sigh, as said Georgi reached out to grab Yuuri’s chin to make him look straight. Yuuri slipped back to meeting Victor’s eye anyway. ‘Maybe you’re part of the same Bratva.’  
  
Victor was getting the distinct impression that if that were true, Victor would be the one sitting pretty at the bottom of the Thames with the way Georgi was glaring. Hardly Victor’s fault Yuuri was distracted though, was it?  
  
Unless… Was it?  
  
Pleased despite himself, Victor walked up to lean against the make-up table so now he was the one facing Yuuri. Yuuri squinted up at him as Georgi blotted foundation on with a sponge, Yuuri’s conversation stilted by the motion. Victor talked for both them, telling Yuuri about his morning and about Makkachin. Yuuri’s cheeks would go all round when Victor talked about Makkachin, like there was smile swelling beneath them and it made Victor happy to see it.  
  
All in all, it was turning into a very pleasant ten or so minutes before Phichit stormed back into the area, hands shoved into the tiny pockets of his skinny jeans. Victor paused in his story of Makkachin versus the stubborn duck at Holland Park when he felt Phichit’s gaze on him. Victor looked up to see Phichit was indeed watching him very intently, brown lips pursed with concentration.  
  
‘Everything alright?’  
  
‘What size suit are you?’ Phichit asked, the question evidently so bizarre that even the great maestro Georgi paused in his delicate dusting along Yuuri’s crease to cast him a strange look. Victor looked to Yuuri, who only shrugged with an expression of similar confusion.  
  
‘Um. Not sure. Maybe a 44?’ Victor said, taking a wild stab in the dark. Phichit pinched his chin with one hand, tapping a Converse clad foot on the floor as he evidently mulled something over.  
  
‘I’ll make it work,’ he announced, before walking over and snatching Victor by the arm, ranting to Yuuri behind them about some guy called Cao Bin who had apparently failed to show up. Phichit pulled Victor down to another partition where a couch was sitting next to a steel rail of clothes. Victor looked back, but he couldn’t see Yuuri from behind the partition. Without Yuuri to anchor, Victor suddenly felt quite out of his depth.  
  
‘Need help with a fitting?’ Victor asked with what he hoped sounded like more confidence than he felt, completely unsure of what was happening exactly as Phichit ignored him to pick through the various outfits on the rail. Phichit hummed, pulling a suit from the far end of the rack- but not like any suit Victor had seen before.  
  
At a glance, it could possibly have been mistaken for a true tuxedo. But under the bright white lights of the studio, the fabric revealed itself to be sheer, black chiffon and almost glimmering. Along the right lapel, shards of metallic winked and Victor stared at it, confused as to what kind of situation would require a suit one could see through.  
  
Then, slowly, the gears began to turn. Click, click together as Victor wondered if maybe Chris had been putting his cynicism on brains to the wrong half of Victor and Yuuri.  
  
_Eros and Agape,_ the boudoir boutique in Long Acre. Lingerie. Yuuri- oh.  
  
‘Uh,’ Victor said as Phichit struggled to get the jacket of the suit off its hanger, promptly tossing it to Victor after he did. Victor caught it, surprised with how soft it was.  
  
‘Put that on. We’re doing three quarters so if the trousers are short, we’ll get away with it,’ Phichit said, crossing his arms and waiting patiently for Victor to do as he was told. Phichit raised his dark eyebrows. ‘Chop, chop, Nikiforov.’  
  
Automatically, Victor did as he was bid, slipping the jacket over himself. It was just the smallest bit tight over his broad shoulders, but it fit snug across the waist and Victor held his hands open for Phichit to consider. Which Phichit did, hand back under his chin and grey eyes practically scrolling equations the way Victor could see his thoughts spinning so fast through them.  
  
‘Yeah. You’ll do,’ Phichit announced at last, clapping his hands together before bending down to fish through a box under the rail. Victor waited, but when no explanation came, he pressed as frankly, the only situation Victor could see had to be impossible. Phichit answered without even looking. ‘Our other guy bailed and Yuuri can hardly do a pairs shoot on his own, can he? And you wouldn’t want Yuuri getting the shift for it, would you?’  
  
Phichit said this last part with exaggerated concern that Victor knew he shouldn’t fall for, but did anyway.  
  
‘No?’ Victor said and Phichit looked up with a big grin on his face. It was impressive really, how well Phichit put those perfectly white teeth to use.

‘Course not! So you’ll wear yours and Yuuri will wear his, and together we’ll get something Michele can use,’ Phichit said like this was in any helpful to the clumsy stuttering in Victor’s head. Victor looked down at the bundle of fabric in his hands, throat quite dry and something he would be far too proud to call _stage fright_ curled around tight in his chest. Phichit seemed to sense his worry. ‘It’s fine! Michele doesn’t bother learning anyone’s names, he’s not even going to notice you’re not the model we had booked.’  
  
Not at all that convinced, Victor was already beginning to get some semblance of an excuse ready, but then Phichit clicked his tongue, Victor glancing up at him to see Phichit was regarding him with a strangely blank expression. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m really not a model.’  
  
‘I’ve seen your Instagram, Thirst Trap.’  
  
‘But that’s different- wait, how? You follow me?’ Victor started, then side-stepped with a frown. Phichit shrugged, but he was grinning again with immense satisfaction as he turned back to the box and his rummaging.  
  
‘Yuuri showed me. Has been showing me. For months,’ Phichit said, poking his tongue between his teeth. ‘I promise he was only moderately stalking you before he actually met you though. This won’t be all that different to a selfie in your incredibly over-priced dance studio- _aha!’  
  
_ Phichit stood, holding between his thumbs the stretched out and perfectly nude thong he had evidently spent the last few minutes searching for. Victor stared at it, stunned and hoping the garment might turn around and explain itself. When that did not happen, Victor turned to Phichit.  
  
‘Now that,’ Victor said, pointing a finger at it. ‘Will definitely not fit.’  
  
Phichit’s eyebrows vanished under the brim of his cap. He kneeled back down to the box again. ‘Well. Like I said before, Yuuri’s type. You’ll go far, Nikiforov.’  
  
Victor was less happy to hear it this time around, as that implied his Yuuri was getting to know the thong size of other men who may or may not find themselves in the national average and that did not sit at all that well.  
  
Victor froze, squeezing creases into the expensive chiffon of the jacket. At what point had Yuuri, (gorgeous, adorable, _sexy_ Yuuri), condense all the way down into _his_ Yuuri?  
  
Oh, buggering shit. No, no. This was all getting rather complicated ridiculously quickly and there was only one thing to do and that was leave. Or at the very least, put the barriers back up. Because if this was what Victor was wearing, he could only imagine what Yuuri was wearing and Victor’s imagination could only go so far before the rest of Victor started to get as equally interested.  
  
And if that happened, then all it would take would be one look from Yuuri, who was already the definition of Victor punching above his weight to begin with, to realise what a colossal idiot for a personal trainer he had. It was a very quick dip into panic from there as Victor could picture with perfect clarity the way Yuuri’s brown eyes would go wide, blush sprouting as Yuuri would stammer an apology- like it was somehow _his_ fault and no. No.  
  
Victor shook his head, holding the jacket back out to Phichit.

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. It’s not appropriate.’ There was that word again. Appropriate. Victor had dug a deep grave for that word and already danced the tango across it, but here he was, trying to raise it from the dead. ‘Yuuri is a professional, he deserves someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who knows how to handle him, as beautiful as him.’  
  
‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. You’re not about to stand there and tell me you don’t know how you look, are you?’ Phichit said in a tone that was obviously placating as he stood up, ignoring Victor’s return of the jacket to simply plop another nude thong on the outstretched hand. Phichit patted Victor on the shoulder. ‘As for handling Yuuri, isn’t that what you’ve been doing for the summer?’  
  
Victor wished. Except he didn’t, because that was definitely a trip to HR waiting to happen and if there was one thing scarier than Lilia, it was Yakov Feltsman glowering across a desk too expensive for the sod sitting behind it and holding Victor’s career in his wrinkled hand.  
  
‘Now, look at me, Nikiforov,’ Phichit said when Victor still hadn’t said anything. Victor did, looking down at Phichit who was so short, Victor could almost see the stitching at the top of his hat. ‘Yuuri has nearly killed himself to get into shape for the design he’s wearing. This shoot has to happen today, because we only have Michele for today. If it does not happen today, then the designer doesn’t get her spread in _Vogue_ before fashion week and if that happens, it doesn’t matter who the model is because she’ll want that whole team scrapped. You don’t want Yuuri to get scrapped, do you?’  
  
‘No!’ Victor said, sure of that if nothing else. Phichit grinned up at him.  
  
‘Course you don’t,’ he said happily, before returning to the box once more. Victor watched him fidget, thinking of Yuuri. Always thinking of Yuuri, really.  
  
‘But I’ve never modelled professionally before. I don’t want to let him down.’  
  
‘You won’t. Besides, I’ve seen you in underwear, you know how to hold your abs and that’s half the battle. If you do a fraction for us what you do in your Calvin Kleins on Instagram, I think everyone is going to be very happy.’  
  
‘Right,’ Victor said, distracted as he stared down at the gathered fabric in his arms. ‘Well, is there anything I should know before- _what is that?’  
  
_ Sometimes, Victor’s accent did certain things. Sometimes, it purred down low and made the hairs on Yuuri’s neck stand up. Victor would notice, when helping him adjust the machines in the gym. And other times, it did this rather unfortunate fold on the _w_ where it sounded awfully like a _v_ and the _t’s_ turned to _d’s_ and Victor would flush bright red at the realisation that on occasion, he tended to sound like a stray vampire who’d lost his tourist map.  
  
This was definitely the latter occasion, but in this one unique instance, Victor instead found all the colour draining from his face as Phichit perched himself on the arm of the couch with a hand aloft.  
  
‘How do you think we get the bulge?’ Phichit asked brightly, tossing the silicon ring for Victor to flail at in catching. ‘Choke it until it looks like it’s going to pop.’  
  
‘I…’ Victor stared down at the silicone ring, which stared right back looking ridiculously benevolent for what it was. ‘I’m not sure about this.’  
  
‘Okay,’ Phichit chimed primly, hopping off the side of the couch. ‘But keep in mind, you’re about to have Katsuki Yuuri, in lingerie, squirming about on your lap for the better part of an hour.’  
  
Bugger.  
  
Point taken, Victor walked over to the rail and grabbed the matching trousers, pocketing the ring and headed towards the bathroom as Phichit waved cheerily after him. ‘And go see Georgi when you’re finished! I’m not having anyone looking washed out on my watch!’  
  


 

* * *

  
  
Victor looked at himself in the large mirror placed against the wall by the make-up station. The suit was a slim fit, which Victor supposed made sense and he couldn’t deny it to himself, he felt remarkably powerful wearing it. The nude thong vanished beneath the shifting shadow of the black, betraying nothing the tight grip Victor had going on down there. He could almost forget about it.  
  
The fact that Yuuri was nowhere to be found could not help but be related, as he’d apparently been moved down to the suite in the back where the shoot was actually happening by the time Victor was brought back around.  
  
Adjusting the jacket once more though it didn’t need it, Victor resisted the urge to run his hand through his hair nervously after Georgi had spent the time to get it perfectly coiffed. With no shirt on, the deep v of the suit revealed Victor’s pectorals in a way that almost had Victor take a sneaky Instagram for himself. But as it was, it had already been a whirlwind of twenty or so minutes and Phichit was already back with a lighting soft box balanced in one hand.  
  
‘Wow!’ He said, whistling appreciatively when Victor turned to him. ‘Oh, yeah. You’ll do. Come on, Mickey’s already set up.’  
  
‘Right. Who’s this Mickey?’  
  
‘Michele Crispino. _Vogue’s_ resident photographer. And designer asshole,’ Phichit said, walking down further into the studio as Victor followed after him, cheap slippers he’d been given padding along the floor. ‘Not that we’re going to say that to his face. But yeah, dickhead. Yuuri hates him.’  
  
‘Oh, really?’ One less possibility to worry about. Not that Victor had any right to be worried, mind.  
  
‘Yeah. He hates Yuuri, too, though. So at least it’s mutual.’  
  
Victor wasn’t all that fond of this Mickey either. Anyone who met Katsuki Yuuri and didn’t adore him was not someone Victor could trust in having good judgement, as clearly they’d made a bad call there.  
  
Phichit led Victor down to the furtherest suite, thanking Victor when he held the door open as Phichit was struggling while also balancing the soft box. Inside, Victor was drawn to Yuuri instantly, who was standing with the photographer Victor instantly guessed at being Michele. Victor could spot an Italian from a mile away.  
  
Michele had his back to Victor, but it meant Victor got a good look at Yuuri’s face which was scrunched in obvious displeasure. But whatever was being said to him was quickly forgotten as Yuuri looked aside from Michele to squint down in Victor’s direction.  
  
‘Victor!’ Yuuri walked over, legs poking out from the folds of his dressing gown and Victor felt a tight squeeze of _oh_ in his stomach as it was obvious from Yuuri’s bare legs that he either wasn’t wearing any bottoms, or the ones he had were very, very small.  
  
(It was at this point, Victor’s silicon little friend reacquainted itself with the girth of him and Victor promptly choked).  
  
‘You look incredible,’ Yuuri said once he was close enough, reaching out to trace the line of the metallic embellishments. Victor tried to focus on anything but the way the fabric was so thin, he could almost feel Yuuri’s heat. Instead, he traced the line of the dark eyeliner that followed Yuuri’s eyes. The gold eye shadow powdered around it. ‘Like it was made for you.’  
  
‘Almost,’ Victor said, sounding more calm than he felt as he gestured down to where the trousers were above his ankles, they were so short. Yuuri looked down, before glancing up with a shy smile.  
  
‘It’s cute,’ Yuuri said quietly, beautifully and Victor burned. Hot.  
  
‘Alright, alright!’ a voice called before someone clapped their hands. Victor was accosted by Michele, who had crossed the room while Victor had been (happily) distracted. He guided Victor towards the set up, which consisted on a lush, leather chair on the end of an equally plush looking bed- everything white. ‘You sit here. No, no. Head up. Let me see. _Si, si. Probabilmente è troppo alto. Ma cosa posso fare?’  
  
_ Not having the faintest idea of whether any of that was good or not, Victor let himself be manoeuvred down onto the leather chair. Michele spread his legs, which Victor just about resisted rectifying by snapping them back together as he wondered, madly, if it would be obvious the machinations going on beneath the _very_ thin chiffon.  
  
‘Stay,’ Michele said in a tone Victor wouldn’t even use on Makkachin before stalking off, his fine leather shoes clicking like high heels on the industrial floor. Victor looked over to where Phichit was adjusting the height of the soft box, feeling kindred by the way Phichit stuck his tongue out after the photographer. 'I won’t have my sister’s jacket getting wrinkled just because the model can’t sit straight.’  
  
Then Victor made a mistake. He looked away to see where Yuuri was, and found him.  
  
Yuuri had lost his bathrobe in the brief moments they’d been apart, having his hair adjusted by Georgi, who had reappeared. It was slicked back, which only seemed to make Yuuri seem all the more naked. Not that he was naked, but he wasn’t far off it and Victor’s poor little heart could only take so much.  
  
(And his poor, unfortunate dick was taking considerably more. Every silicon inch of it, in an iron grip).  
  
Yuuri was standing on the spindly tips of the most impressive looking winged heels, black and gold in perfect compliment to the striking lingerie that spilled across Yuuri’s olive skin like molten metal. Gold, Baroque and held together in black satin. It braced under Yuuri’s neck like a collar, spread out on his chest and curved under the breast bone, tracing the lines of the body Victor had admired for so very long.  
  
The bottoms were all laced together with the top, a bracket of gold covering the most modest of bulges and Victor wondered if Yuuri was wearing the same cock ring Victor was and that- that was a mistake. Because now Victor couldn’t stop staring, imagining it and the thought of it had Victor’s mouth watering, fists clenched and cock choking quite suddenly.  
  
Once Yuuri was deemed suitable, he walked over towards Victor with a sinful sway to his hips. Victor could see the way the lingerie clung to Yuuri’s skin in perfect mockery for how Victor’s hands were itching to touch, to trace every line and perhaps repeat the process with kisses. Knowing he was staring and unable to stop himself, Victor could do nothing but sit there and let himself get lost in the instant trouble that was Katsuki Yuuri right now in this perfect, sexy and terrible moment.  
  
‘Shit,’ was all Victor could manage, blood boiling and churning a deep, thick clench of arousal inside of him. This was bad. Yuuri tilted his head, looking at Victor from beneath his lashes and Victor struggled to swallow. ‘You… you look unbelievable.’  
  
Yuuri blinked, looking away briefly. From here, Victor liked to think he was blushing under that beautifully applied foundation. ‘Thanks to you, you know.’  
  
‘Oh no,’ Victor said breathlessly, the air punched out of him by how badly his cock wanted to swell but found itself caged from doing so. ‘No way could I take the credit for this.’  
  
Yuuri met Victor’s eye then, which was impressive as Victor was barely able to stop himself from staring at every part of Yuuri he could see. Far too many days imagining just what Yuuri looked like under the Mizuno shirts he sweated through in training, only for the reality to explode like this in front of him. Victor felt his cock twitch, sucking air in between his teeth.  
  
Distraction came in the form of Michele, who clearly worked for Satan, as God was no where present in the way Michele explained to Yuuri how he was to sit himself on Victor’s lap. Mortified and yet, shamefully, aroused by the idea, Victor could say nothing as Yuuri did exactly that. It should have punctured a hole in Victor’s little aroused bubble how Yuuri was looking to Michele with a detached look of concentration on his face, letting Michele place him how he was wanted.  
  
But really, all Victor could do was look at the way Yuuri’s forehead creased in the middle with thought and wonder how it would feel beneath his lips. Victor jumped when one of Yuuri’s hands came down on his shoulder, so very warm against the chiffon and Victor’s attention snapped like a rubber band back to him.  
  
‘Relax,’ Yuuri purred, eyes half-closed. Victor tried to focus on the gold shadow there and not the way Yuuri’s weight sank down onto Victor’s lap. All the right places, grinding up together and Victor closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down otherwise that silicon ring was going to snap him right off. Yuuri squeezed his shoulder. ‘Victor, look at me.’  
  
Victor really wanted to, but he was half-afraid to. Counting to ten, Victor caved before reaching six.  
  
‘Hey there,’ Yuuri said softly, lips looking ridiculously plump and Christ. Had they always looked that good? ‘Don’t take your eyes off me, okay?’  
  
‘Okay,’ Victor said, as it was all he could think of to say.  
  
Michele moved to Victor next after finishing positioning Yuuri, putting Yuuri’s other hand down onto Victor’s waist where it burned like a brand. Victor kept his promise, watching Yuuri’s face and the way Yuuri’s eyes fluttered as Victor’s hands were placed on Yuuri’s waist. Skin on skin, Victor’s hands sweating and he wondered if he’d leave fingerprints on Yuuri like a thief might.  
  
Evidently satisfied, Michele stood back and fidgeted with his camera. Victor could just about make it out in the corner of his eye, but really, it was impossible to look away from Yuuri. With the soft yellow light around him, casting warm shadows down the curves Victor had admired for so many weeks, Yuuri looked almost dreamlike. Hazed at the edges. Too sinful and rich to indulge in and Victor was living the truth of such a hell. Everything he wanted, wrapped up in pretty gold ribbons, and Victor knew he couldn’t have it.  
  
It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. But as it was, Victor was feeling tight in all the right and wrong places.  
  
‘Okay! Victor, is it?’ Michele called, Victor nodding mutely as Yuuri gave him a quick reassuring smile. ‘Straighten your back for me.’ This action had Yuuri sink heavier on Victor’s lap and his lips part, unbidden, as Yuuri gasps softly. ‘Yes, head up now. Good. You’re powerful. Rich and having a very, very nice time in a very, very expensive and impractical suit.’  
  
One out of three was a bad batting average, but Victor was more than happy to settle with his lot. Cautious, Victor tried to keep his hands where Michele had left them. But without meaning to, his fingers spread, as if to touch more of Yuuri while he could. Yuuri was so soft, looked so divine in the lingerie clinging to him. Victor wanted to take one of the beautiful, pink nipples before him in his mouth and suck it until Yuuri wept.  
  
Distantly, Victor could hear the camera shutter going. _‘Più forte!_ Tougher expression, Victor. Yuuri is your accessory.’  
  
‘I don’t want him to be an accessory!’ Victor said, snapping out of the trance he was sinking fast under with a cold shock. Victor looked over to Michele, who had the most unimpressed expression on his face but really sod him. Victor looked to who mattered- Yuuri.  
  
Yuuri, who had what almost looked like pity across his face as he smiled down at Victor weakly. Victor could see it in face. Like _aww, bless, Victor that’s sweet but no.  
  
_ Was that what Yuuri was used to? Being an accessory? Victor sat up suddenly, determined. One hand spread up Yuuri’s back, catching him as Yuuri was set slightly off balance and the other gripping the bend of where Yuuri’s waist dipped into his hip. The camera went off again, but Victor couldn’t look anywhere but at Yuuri. Felt nothing but the heavy, hot weight of him and the flutter of Yuuri’s breath across his lips.  
  
_‘Meglio!_ Better!’ Michele cried, but Victor didn’t care. He leaned slightly forward, the hand on Yuuri’s back pressing down. Yuuri arched, his ass a slow grind on Victor’s lap and Victor nearly whimpered. Quite possibly did, all things considered.  
  
‘You’re not an accessory,’ Victor said sternly when Yuuri looked back to him. Victor thought of their conversation, the one that landed him in this Wonderland of temptation and even more strangely, appreciation. ‘Or a mannequin. You’re not a thing, Yuuri. Not to me.’  
  
‘Don’t get ahead of yourself,’ Michele offered unhelpfully, sounding somewhat amused himself now. If Victor didn’t think the knob who could consider Yuuri anything less than the striking person he was would have a conniption at being told so, Victor would have kindly told Michele to do one. ‘You don’t have to be so careful with him. But this is good, good intensity!’  
  
‘He deserves to be treated carefully,’ Victor replied, resolute and Yuuri’s entire face shuttered. Like he was trying to hide something and Victor wanted to know what it was as desperately as he wanted the cock ring to snap so he might be able to think straight.  
  
(Straight in a sense, as it were).  
  
Michele sighed dramatically. ‘Katsuki’s the model. He doesn’t matter so much as the story we want the clothes to be in.’

‘No, that’s not good enough,’ Victor said firmly, adjusting his hold on Yuuri. Open palms, strong fingers. In training, Yuuri trusted Victor with his body and Victor would let Yuuri know he could trust Victor here, too. ’You want people to buy this, right? Then you should tell them a better story.’  
  
‘You’ve really got his one under your thumb, don’t you, Katsuki?’ Michele grumbled, before snapping impatiently to Phichit to adjust one of the lights. ‘Fine. Let’s try it your way. Tell me your story.’  
  
One of the soft boxes dimmed, casting the far edges of the room into shadow so Victor could ignore them entirely. Suddenly, no one existed but himself and Yuuri. Yuuri was so soft, so easy to move. He let himself slide against Victor’s body in perfect motion, following the bend of Victor’s elbow with an arch in his back. Traced fingers up Victor’s shoulder, along the edges of his neck. Suddenly, Victor had the image of Yuuri kissing him there and Victor’s heart stopped.  
  
‘I’m not special,’ Victor said carefully, the hand at Yuuri’s hip now sneaking around Yuuri’s waist. Palm up, but gentle. Barely touching and automatically, Yuuri back bowed further against the light tickle of it. Hips down, Victor’s cock aching almost. ‘But something about this suit, these clothes- it’s caught the attention of someone infinitely lovelier.’ 

Yuuri’s hair was slicked back with impressive rigidity, but Victor raised his other hand to brush the one stray strand from Yuuri’s face, careful not to block the view of the camera. Yuuri leaned into it, Victor’s palm brushing against his cheekbone. Yuuri looked so soothed, his lips parted and Victor thought Yuuri almost looked lost to it. Victor was drunk on it instantly.  
  
Yuuri was up high in this position, staring Victor down uniquely. Victor swallowed, nervous and hyper aware of everywhere they were touching. Molten points of contact. Soldered together. 

‘Maybe it’s how it looks,’ Victor continued, watching the light gleam from the gold filigree of Yuuri’s lingerie. The hand on Yuuri’s waist settled on his back, low. Hot and large, an anchor and Yuuri sank heavier. Victor caught his breath, barely. ‘Or maybe it’s how I feel wearing it. But I’m the one on display, I’m the one at mercy here.’

Yuuri’s hands slipped down from Victor’s neck, fingers trailing down across the metallic edges on Victor’s jacket, then lower again. Thumbs circling the large buttons, fingers slipping beneath the fold of the lapels. Victor could feel the heat of Yuuri’s hands through the gaps. The light scratch of his nails and Victor was suddenly afraid his control would snap entirely. Yuuri’s chest rose, nipples dark and hard from the open air of the studio. Victor couldn’t help but look, entranced.

‘If you buy this suit,’ Victor said, though it would be a wonder if anyone could hear him now, his voice had gone so low. Distantly, Victor could hear the camera going off, but all Victor could really focus on was how Yuuri’s skin was so bare, open and mirroring the gold of his lingerie in the light. ‘You don’t own anything but the skill to wear it. After that, should someone as beautiful as this find you worthy of being around, then you go back and thank the stylist. Because you’ll never know for certain how you got so lucky.’

Victor leaned in close, cradling Yuuri so precariously. Like the smallest movement would undo them, their bodies taught with tension. Suspended, almost. Victor turned his head away from the camera, closed his eyes and nosed up along the side of Yuuri’s neck. His hair must’ve been obscuring his face, but Victor didn’t care. Why look at anyone but Yuuri anyway? Victor was so close, he could smell the body wash Yuuri must use and the stale fabric of the bralette strap. Victor stopped just shy of pressing his lips against Yuuri’s skin. Just hovered and breathed. Felt Yuuri quiver from his breath.

‘And if you’re really lucky,’ Victor finished, pressing even closer. Felt Yuuri jump from the cold of the buttons against the skin of his stomach. ‘Maybe that person will give you a shot without the suit, too.’  
  
Michele shouted _hold it!_ and Victor did, with utmost care.  
  
Yuuri seemed like he was suspended himself and Victor was reminded, perhaps morbidly, of the butterflies he’d seen once in the Natural History Museum. Pinned in place, wings spread and looking like they were frozen in time. At this moment, that was exactly how Yuuri looked. His nails dug against Victor’s skin between the jacket fold, the fizzling of feeling there spreading down deep into Victor, lower again to the heat between his legs as Yuuri’s breath slipped out of him with a shake.  
  
‘Victor…’ Yuuri whispered, his mouth barely moving and Victor closed his eyes, uncaring for everyone else in the room because Yuuri saying his name like _that_ was doing things to him.  
  
Things that were certainly not appropriate, but really, the second that cock ring had gotten involved, Victor should’ve expected to leave _appropriate_ at the door.  
  
Along with most of his sense, it would appear.  
  
‘Alright!’ Michele shouted and suddenly, light burst from all sides and Victor squinted through it, unsure where to look. Once he’d gotten his bearings, Yuuri was no longer looking at him and was instead starting to get off him which was… definitely in the realm of _oh no._  
  
Not that Victor had any right one way or the other, but the moment Yuuri’s weight was gone, Victor felt like he was floating in sea without anchor. He watched as Yuuri rushed over to where Phichit was waiting with the dressing gown, Phichit’s face somewhere between the parent that caught their child doing something wrong- and the child doing said thing and getting away with it.  
  
(Victor had seen the same look on Chris’ face too many times to not recognise it, regardless who’s brilliant teeth were flashing it).  
  
Victor went to stand, but he was stopped by the firm grip of Michele, who practically shoved back onto the couch. ‘We’re not done yet, Vincent-’  
  
‘Victor,’ Victor said automatically, trying to look around Michele to find Yuuri. That had definitely been a moment. Victor was sure. But the further Yuuri went from him, the less sure Victor got and he was feeling uncomfortable all over and not just in the concentrated area aiming to be so. ‘Where’s Yuuri?’  
  
‘God only knows,’ Michele said dismissively, grabbing Victor’s chin and tilting it one way before the other. ‘Keep facing left, it’s your better side. That jacket is the focus on the set and Sara wants it looking it s best. And what my sister wants, she gets, you understand me?’  
  
‘Right,’ Victor said, not at all listening as frankly, he couldn’t have cared less. Yuuri was gone, it appeared. Probably vanished off to tell Phichit how ridiculous Victor had been, how dreadful his behaviour was and did Phichit perhaps know another gym Yuuri could attend. Victor was suddenly feeling very cold all over where moments ago he had been blistering and the whole thing was giving him emotional whiplash that crippled.  
  
When Phichit returned from where he’d gone, (without Yuuri, Victor noticed with disappointment), he avoided Victor’s eye and focused on the soft boxes. None of which helped with Victor’s confidence and making sure his arm didn’t cover the embellishment tumbled down very quickly on Victor’s list of priorities. The only thing that kept him stuck to the leather seat was knowing that this shoot was so important to Yuuri, though Victor was itching to go hunt Yuuri down and smooth over the whole sodding mess.  
  
Michele made quick work of Victor’s shots however, or perhaps Victor was just that wrapped up in his own thoughts. But all too quickly, Victor was being shooed off and into Phichit’s waiting hands, which patted happily on Victor’s shoulders as Michele bellowed for Yuuri to get off his arse and take place.  
  
Yuuri appeared, almost from nowhere it seemed, and as he adjusted the straps on his heels, bent down with the dressing gown bunched, Victor realised he was at a very precarious crossroads.  
  
And Victor did what he knew himself to do best when faced with a decision. He took what was likely the daftest option and ran at it full tilt.  
  
Victor shrugged out of Phichit’s grip, stalking across the suite and ignoring Michele, Georgi and anyone else who dared butt their nose in, as Victor had _purpose._  
  
(Nothing was more dangerous than Victor Nikiforov with a purpose).  
  
Yuuri straightened up just as Victor reached him, eyes going wide and hand up. ‘Victor, I-!’  
  
Victor grabbed Yuuri’s outstretched hand, holding it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the soft skin of Yuuri’s wrist. Victor could smell cologne there, sharp and pleasant. His nose bunched at Yuuri’s palm, he could feel the wet of where his lips parted cooling against Yuuri’s skin. His fingers slotted along the round bones of Yuuri’s hand. Victor lingered, loath to let go, but his eyes were fixed on Yuuri’s face.  
  
That stupid, round, gorgeous face that had been Victor’s undoing from that one dreadful morning in July. That same stupid, round, gorgeous face that was watching Victor with a remarkably shocked expression.  
  
Well.  
  
Guess that answered that.  
  
Victor let go with extreme regret, aiming to step away only to be stopped by Yuuri snatching at a lapel of the jacket, keeping Victor where he was. Victor stared down at him, watching the way Yuuri was frowning with thought somewhere around the end of Victor’s neck.  
  
‘What was that?’ Yuuri asked quietly, still not looking at Victor and Victor figured- in for a penny, in for a pound.  
  
‘I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment I saw you,’ Victor confessed and Yuuri glanced up at him, still looking thoughtful which was likely not a good sign. ‘And doubly so the more I got to know you. I think you’re lovely, Yuuri. And I couldn’t wait any longer.’  
  
Yuuri said nothing. He still said nothing. One second, two second, three-  
  
‘Oh, for god’s sake!’ Michele snapped, startling both Victor and Yuuri out of their conversation. They both looked over to where he was stamping his foot, hands on his hips with the camera hanging around his neck. ‘Could you keep it in your trousers for at least another half hour, please?’  
  
Yuuri snatched his hand back from Victor so fast, it was like he was burnt. He started undoing his bathrobe, tossing it over a stray chair. He balanced on his heels, sneaking glances to Victor. ‘I’m sorry, Victor. I have to work. Can we talk later?’  
  
‘Go,’ Victor said, seeing the window was closed and trying not to give into the tears that were definitely threatening to fall. There was heartbreak and then there was the alarmingly sharp pain in Victor’s chest that seemed intent on snapping him in two. ‘Sorry for… well, sorry.’  
  
Victor went to move again, only to be pulled back around for exactly the same reason as before. Yuuri twisted his hand, gathering the jacket up and tugging with enough force Victor almost staggered. He turned back, only catching the dark flash of Yuuri’s eyes before Yuuri was kissing him.  
  
Yuuri.

Yuuri was _kissing_ him.  
  
(Fuck it).  
  
Victor’s hands moved on their own accord, wrapping around Yuuri’s waist and taking advantage of the brief paths they’d made for themselves earlier, retracing steps up Yuuri’s back. Catching on the fastenings of his lingerie, burning against the heat of his skin as Yuuri fisted his other hand in the lapels of the jacket, keeping Victor exactly where he was.  
  
There were kisses and then there was _this._ And all things considered, Victor would never settle for anything less than _this_ again.  
  
Yuuri slid a tongue along Victor’s lips, Victor parting them gratefully and nearly whimpering through the way their kiss melted. Yuuri’s lips were so soft, his mouth so hot. Victor was burning up and sinking down all at the same time. He gripped hard at Yuuri’s waist, his hips. Anywhere Victor could reach and rubbed at the meat of Yuuri there, feeling the hardness of the muscle well-worked beneath. Yuuri made a noise, sounding awfully close to a moan and Victor sighed into their kiss, elated.  
  
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph,’ Victor could distantly hear from somewhere, but none of it mattered because Yuuri was everywhere. His tongue was in Victor’s mouth, his hands on Victor’s chest and his bare leg slipping between Victor’s thighs-  
  
They were interrupted by someone slapping Yuuri on the back of the head, the force of it nearly knocking their teeth together. Victor didn’t let Yuuri go, but he did throw what he hoped was an incredibly dirty look at Michele, who had sauntered over with the bizarre audacity to think he could disturb what was quickly becoming the best moment of Victor’s life. Michele, for all the good it did, seemed unbothered by Victor’s ire.  
  
‘I don’t care if Sara likes you. If you don’t get on that couch right now, I’ll model the blasted set myself,’ Michele said, pointing at the leather chaise behind him for good measure. Yuuri was panting, so he nodded mutely as Michele gave Victor his own look, (which Victor had to concede, was exceptionally fearsome), before stalking off again.  
  
Yuuri took a breath, trying to compose himself. Victor didn’t bother. He was well beyond that. So far beyond that, Victor could barely see where he started, if he was honest. Yuuri looked delicious right now, all flushed. Lips swollen. God, they looked good. They’d look even better back where they were, kissing Victor. Or perhaps even-  
  
‘I really have to work,’ Yuuri said, though he did sound genuinely sorry about this fact. ‘But there’s something I have to tell you first.’  
  
‘What?’  
  
‘You’re fired,’ Yuuri said stoutly, looking most set on it and for a moment, Victor could think of absolutely nothing to say to that because… well…

Fair enough, really.  
  
‘And,’ Yuuri continued, before Victor could reply. ‘Are you free tonight?’  
  
Victor wasn’t. But he was now. Would be, forever. And ever. Amen.  
  
‘Good,’ Yuuri said as Victor nodded, smirking and Victor’s knees went weak. Yuuri started to move away, heading to where Michele beckoned. ‘Go home, I’ll be ages yet. You shouldn’t wait. And I’ll see you tonight?’  
  
‘Please,’ Victor said because it was all he ever wanted to say to Yuuri really and smiling as Yuuri walked away. Victor watched him go, loving every shift and sway and especially loving the very, very small thong. Victor’s imagination hadn’t been half as generous as it should’ve been.  
  
Victor’s _please_ had always had the cherry on top implied, but there was nothing like popping one proper. And at this point, Victor was about ready to burst himself.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
Victor’s eagerness, which was impressive at finally glimpsing an end to the plight he’d been resigned to for the summer, only lasted until the end of the road after he left the studio, agreeing to give Yuuri a chance to decompress after work before they… _met up later,_ as Yuuri put it.  
  
Because the more Victor went over it all, thought about and proceeded to go back and do so all over again- the less romantic it all seemed and the more seedy it looked. Incredibly seedy, actually. Potential _booty call_ seedy.  
  
Victor was well past the narrow if sloppy parameters of booty call. But maybe Yuuri was settled in rather pleasantly with where he wanted to be already?  
  
Victor stopped dead in the street, nervously turning his sunglasses around by the arm. Spinning them, trying to ignore the niggling voice in his head that sounded suspiciously Swiss telling him that what had just happened was definitely a step in the right direction, but did not necessarily mean Victor was ending up where he’d hoped.  
  
Was this just a quick thing? Victor thought, nervous. Is that was Yuuri was expecting? In, out, job’s a good’un?  
  
Victor would be the first to admit that this whole thing was probably his fault to begin with, as from day one, Victor was one who had been imagining Yuuri in exactly such a situation. But that was _then,_ things were different now! Victor wanted more than what his morning showers steamed the glass with, he wanted much more and Victor was now beginning to worry he’d jumped the gun a little bit and put himself directly in the firing line.  


Quite a few of Victor’s more delicate areas had been put under stress today, but Victor was beginning to worry now that his heart might just be next in the line up and despite his own misery, Victor was a romantic where it counted and nervous of putting something that soft near anything that threatened to puncture it.  
  
Even if that something was incredibly fit and charming.  
  
Determinedly _not panicking,_ Victor reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, as first things first, he needed to cancel the plans he didn’t tell Yuuri he had.  
  
‘Hello, _cheri.’_  
  
‘I kissed Yuuri,’ Victor said, straight through Chris’ _hello_ and nearly getting run down by an impressive double-stroller as he walked onto Great Portland Street. The mother sighed loudly, like Victor was going out of his way to do such, but Victor ignored her.  
  
‘Well, that was inevitable. Did you kiss him when he was all made up for the shoot?’  
  
‘Yes, but that’s not why-’  
  
‘Course not.’  
  
‘Stop it,’ Victor said, stepping in by a Tesco lest he get himself into any more trouble. ‘I’m scared out of my wits here. Yuuri invited me to his place later.’  
  
‘So I assume you won’t be joining us for Dreamboys tonight?’  
  
‘I can barely get my head around the one guy, never mind a whole stage of them,’ Victor said, before continuing, perhaps a touch desperately. ‘I kissed Yuuri and then he invited me to his place this evening. Be honest, do you think Yuuri just wants to shift me? Is this a one night stand?’  
  
‘He’s bringing you home, right off the bat? Then, yes. Probably,’ Chris replied and Victor really didn’t want to hear that. Chris seemed to backtrack on hearing the small whine of panic Victor let out. ‘But what do I know, _cheri?_ I haven’t met the guy! And even if he does shag you, who’s to say it’ll be the only time? He’s allowed to want to sleep with you and date you. For most people, the two go pretty hand in hand.’  
  
‘That’s not really helping,’ Victor groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m really gone on him, Chris and I’m worried he’s gotten the wrong impression. Or at least, just not the whole impression? I don’t want this be a one off, or for him to think I’m a-’  
  
‘Slut?’  


Victor made a guttural noise of displeasure. ‘I was going to say, that I don’t want him thinking I’m an asshole who only wants to sleep with him.’  
  
‘Fair enough,’ Chris said, before chuckling. ‘But seeing as he’s asked you to his and you agreed, not to mention a kiss at work, I’d say the horse has bolted for both of you on the slut-front. So even if you were an asshole only looking for a shag, he seems to be into that.’  
  
That only made Victor feel infinitely worse.  
  
‘Right. It’s settled,’ Victor said with surety, nodding to himself for good measure. ‘I’m not sleeping with him tonight.’  
  
‘Why on earth not? Haven’t I spent months listening to you whine about how much you want to?’ Chris said, sounding genuinely baffled. He laughed, disbelieving. _‘Merde,_ Victor, this isn’t about the driving again is it?’  
  
‘No. Sort of. I’m going to woo him,’ Victor said, feeling more and more confident in this plan as he thought about. It was the only way for Yuuri to understand that Victor was in this for the long haul. Victor knew for certain now that Yuuri was interested, all Victor had to do was show him that there was more than the one option.  
  
(Brilliant option, that it was).  
  
Chris laughed, loudly and with what sounded like great amusement, though Victor was most certainly not joking. ‘Woo him? What are you going to do? Bring him to Berners for a nine pound pint?’ Chris chuckled. ‘Pay for his next permit?’

When Victor said nothing to that, (sulking), Chris sobered up.  
  
‘Alright. Sorry, sorry. But I think you’re overthinking here, _cheri,’_ Chris said kindly, which Victor appreciated despite everything else the sod had been rattling off. ‘You kissed him. He liked it. He’s invited you back to his place. The guy likes you. I think you’re past the wooing stage, don’t you?’  
  
Victor didn’t think so. It couldn’t hurt to offer a little bit of romance anyway, right? Yuuri deserved it, Victor felt. Victor hadn’t been the most gentlemanly so far and it was time to make up for it. Starting immediately.  


 

* * *

  
  
Victor had a plan.  
  
He had driven to Yuuri’s place. No late night tube, no night-bus. No thirty pound cab. Nothing that could be used as a throwaway excuse to stay over. Victor carefully took the rather large bouquet he had brought from the passenger seat, double checking how he looked in the side view mirror before making his way to Yuuri’s door.  
  
Yuuri’s flat was the basement of one of the terrace houses that lined Old Ford Road, the door cheap with a large frosted glass window. It reminded Victor of the university dorms he had slogged through for his sins back in Saint Petersburg. He rapped on it, wondering about the draft Yuuri must get as the glass rattled in its frame.  
  
Through the glass, Victor saw the blurred figure of someone approaching and he couldn’t stop smiling, excitement bubbling up inside of him like the kind of champagne they served at wedding receptions. With something sweet and sticky to the lips at the bottom, like a strawberry. Or a kiss.  
  
(Not that Victor was thinking of weddings, of course).  
  
‘Victor!’ Yuuri said, opening the door and dark eyes immediately dropping from beneath his glasses to the plume of roses Victor held before him. ‘Oh. Wow.’  
  
Yuuri went red, matching the roses most impressively. He reached out slowly, taking the roses with the utmost care, like they were made of glass. He looked down at them, the most endearing disbelief on his face. Victor preened, pleased with himself.  
  
‘These must’ve cost a fortune,’ Yuuri said, glancing up. ‘You really didn’t have to. I don’t have anything for you! Well, I mean, I tried but-’  
  
‘Make it up to me,’ Victor flirted, putting his hands behind his back and leaning forward. Yuuri was shorter again, without the heels. Yuuri looked most unlike how Victor usually saw him really, from what Victor could see around the roses. The jumper he was wearing looked like he’d fished it out of some poor old deduska’s closet, a brown and lumpy thing that bundled up at this wrists and a pair of fluffy socks underneath his jeans. ‘Let me buy you dinner. Anywhere you like. As I’m no longer your coach, you no longer have a meal plan.’  
  
Victor punctuated that with a wink, which went unappreciated as Yuuri was looking away again. He shuffled in his socks, running a hand through his dark hair. It stuck up at odd angles and Victor wanted to touch every wild tuft of it, just resisting doing exactly that as Yuuri smiled shyly.  
  
‘Actually,’ Yuuri said, stepping back and nodding for Victor to follow him into the flat. ‘I kind of made you dinner. I hope that’s okay.’  
  
Victor was struck so hard by the wave of affection that flooded through him then, it took him far too long to think of anything to say. And all he managed after that was; ‘You made me dinner?’  
  
‘It’s nothing fancy!’ Yuuri said, holding the roses up to hide his face under the pretence of smelling them. But Victor was getting to know Yuuri too well for those moves now. ‘Probably not as a good as you’d get in town, but I wanted to do something for you. Something no one else does.’  
  
Wasn’t that just something?  
  
Roses and plans for dinner be damned. Victor wrapped Yuuri up in a hug, likely crushing the poor things between them as he gathered Yuuri close to him. He grinned to himself, burying the smile in Yuuri’s shoulder and smelling the perfume of clean cotton from the mouldy coloured jumper.  
  
‘No one’s made me dinner in years,’ Victor confessed, giving Yuuri one more squeeze for good measure. ‘In fact, I don’t even know anyone that uses their kitchen for anything other than storage. You know all my meals are made for me by the nutritionist kitchen.’  
  
‘Yeah, I remember you saying,’ Yuuri said, looking a little more relaxed as Victor let him go. Roses only marginally crumpled. ‘I’m afraid what I made is definitely not on anyone’s meal plan.’  
  
‘Sounds perfect,’ Victor said, quite genuinely. Dinner was still dinner, after all. And Yuuri had _made_ this one. Victor had never looked more forward to a meal.  
  
Yuuri led Victor to the kitchen at the end of the small, narrow hall of the flat. It was a tiny room, to the right. As they walked in, Victor couldn’t help a quick look into the bedroom that was next to the kitchen. It was even smaller, with a single bed and Victor forced himself not to think logistics. As the only logistics Victor should be concerned with where that of situating himself into the dodgy folding chair he was expected to sit in at the matching folding table that was set up at the end of the small kitchen.  
  
And not how Victor might bend his knees in a similar fashion in order to fit snugly into the tight parameters of the single bed that Yuuri likely knew how to turn pirouettes in. Pas de deux, perhaps.  
  
Luckily, dinner brought Victor’s thoughts right back to where they should be. Served with white wine in tumblers that looked suspiciously like washed out _Nutella_ jars, dinner was a truly decadent affair of something Victor was nervous to call schnitzel, as the word Yuuri used most certainly didn’t sound anything like it, but certainly hit close to it. Soaked in a sweet sauce and served over rice, Victor suddenly felt like he had been starving for years and only been served the meal now.  
  
‘This is amazing!’ Victor said through a mouthful, which was likely most unattractive but Victor really couldn’t help himself and going by the way Yuuri smiled brightly at him across the table, Yuuri didn't mind it. ‘Seriously, Yuuri. Like restaurant quality.’  
  
‘Flatterer,’ Yuuri said, but he looked happy with himself and to see that confidence there made Victor feel remarkably humbled all of a sudden. Victor wished Yuuri would look that pleased with himself all the time, as even when he did well in training, Yuuri always seemed to approach each success as merely a checkpoint to start over from.  
  
‘You’ve been holding out on me, Katsuki. Cute and you can cook, I never had a shot with you now did I?’  
  
Yuuri blushed around his forkful of rice. ‘Stop. If anyone didn’t have a shot, it was going to be me.’  
  
‘What do you mean?’  
  
‘Just that…god, it sounds so stupid now,’ Yuuri said, fidgeting with his wine. ‘I thought I was building it up in my head a bit, I guess. I really wanted you to like me because… well, I just liked you so much. I do like you.’  
  
Yuuri shut himself up then, which Victor was sorry for. Because Victor could listen to Yuuri tell him he fancied Victor until the sun came up. As it was, Victor gave Yuuri the break and continued with his meal. They chatted in along safer topics, Yuuri explaining to Victor how he shared the flat with Phichit, who was not American but had studied there, which is where Yuuri had met him when Yuuri was there for a job a few years ago.  
  
(‘He gets the upstairs bedroom with the double bed,’ Yuuri said, cheeks pink now after two glasses of wine and Victor was smitten. ‘Because he was going with someone at the time we moved in. At first I was jealous, but turns out he gets the leak from the bath in the flat above us, so serves him right for conning me, really.’)  
  
Victor talked about home, back in Saint Petersburg. Makkachin as a puppy. Most was stuff he’d told Yuuri already, over coffees in the MX lobby or when they cooled down on the treadmills. But it was different now, telling the same stories but with his face flushed from wine and their legs touching under the rickety table. With Yuuri looking at Victor like that, dark eyes simmering with something as he leaned closer. Inching slowly across the table.  
  
Dessert was a suitably sugary fare from _Marks and Spencer,_ Yuuri licking thick chocolate sauce from a teaspoon and Victor watched the pink little tongue with a thick pulse in his stomach. Through sweet bites, Victor lost himself to the timbre of Yuuri’s voice. The accent that bled through the words as Yuuri sipped on wine, adding syllables to Victor’s name that tied around in knots.  
  
‘Phichit’s staying somewhere tonight,’ Yuuri said long after the plates had been moved to the sink, his slight body leaning against the counter as Victor stood before him. Hands teasing along the ends of Yuuri’s hideous jumper. (It really would look so much better on the floor, Victor felt). ‘So we can hang out in the sitting room, if you like. Bit more comfortable than these chairs.’  
  
‘Lead the way,’ Victor said, hand slipping into Yuuri’s and letting Yuuri tug him back through the hall to the front room.  
  
There was only a lamp on in the living room, Victor barely glancing around the place only in the hope of spotting the couch. Which he did, as it was one of the two pieces of furniture in the room. The other being a cluttered coffee table, groaning under the weight of books and stray camera pieces, to Victor’s eye. Victor and Yuuri made their way between it and the couch, Yuuri laying down onto that and taking Victor down with him.  
  
Kissing Yuuri was the best kind of kissing Victor had ever had. Yuuri was all motion, hands roaming down Victor’s back and splaying warm over his arse. Yuuri’s tongue was hot against Victor’s, his breath damp on Victor’s lips and it was like a drug. Victor let himself sink against Yuuri, groaning with satisfaction as Yuuri gripped his arse with appreciation. Long, sipping kisses that burst hot with teeth, ran smooth until Victor’s lips tingled.  
  
This close, with the heat building, Victor couldn’t help the swell in his trousers. He went to lift his hips, a distant thought coming to his head that there was a reason Victor shouldn’t be rutting down against Yuuri’s very inviting and willing body right now. What exactly that was, Victor forgot as Yuuri used his leverage to get Victor right back down where he started, so Victor could feel the hard outline of what had to be Yuuri’s perfect cock through their jeans.  
  
‘Jesus,’ Victor gasped, Yuuri smirking with teeth and his eyes closed in an expression of such erotic perfection Victor whined. He rolled his hips, the firm grip of heat between his legs throbbing at the friction. Yuuri kissed down Victor’s neck. Closed his lips around the collarbone and bit until it tickled. Until Victor squirmed and his cock rubbed along the hard press of Yuuri’s body. ‘Fuck. You’re good.’  
  
‘Nothing like you,’ Yuuri murmured between fevered kisses back up Victor’s neck, his jaw. Taking Victor’s lips with blistering purpose. ‘You should see how you look. You look so good, Victor. The most beautiful person ever.’  
  
Victor melted. How could he not, with Yuuri telling him something that good? That lovely? Victor had been trying to hold himself someway up, but one of his hands gave up the good fight to get itself under Yuuri’s jumper. Victor groaned into the kiss, swallowing Yuuri’s little breath as Victor ran his hand up and down where Victor knew Yuuri was ticklish himself. Victor was so hard, the squeeze of jeans most certainly past the point of comfortable now but it felt too good to move. Yuuri was too good.  
  
Because Yuuri was hard. Yuuri was hard, that was his erection Victor was grinding against and it was Yuuri’s tongue in his mouth, pouring syrup kisses that stuck in Victor’s throat. Yuuri was so warm, burning under his clothes and Victor wanted to see it. He wanted to tear the clothes from Yuuri’s body and put the cock that was teasing him between his lips. Victor wanted it, had wanted it, for what felt like so long.  
  
What was the reason for not wanting to do this again?  
  
‘Victor, I want,’ Yuuri panted between kisses, hands surrendering their grip on Victor’s arse to tug Victor’s shirt from his trousers and run up Victor’s back. ‘I want you, I’d like to- do you?’  


Yes. Desperately. Why would Yuuri even ask Victor that, at this point?  
  
_Unless,_ a very unwelcome thought suggested. _He’s not asking about the sex. He’s asking about the_ _type_ _of sex._  
  
And that’s where everything came to a screeching halt as Victor remembered that tonight was supposed to be the fluffy, romantic prelude to a long and prosperous romance. Not a quickie on the couch after a total of two (mind-blowing) kisses. Yuuri didn’t deserve that, Victor felt, despite very much wanting to give it to Yuuri anyway who was still remarkably delicious beneath him. 

Yuuri spent every day of his life being stared at and wanted. Victor didn’t want to be another one of those people in the long line. Victor wanted to stick around, for as long as Yuuri would consider letting him. But Yuuri couldn’t know what was on offer if Victor didn’t show him. 

Victor hummed sadly as he managed to pull himself way, Yuuri chasing after him with quick presses to his lips that had Victor’s heart skipping like a stone. ‘Yuuri- _mm,_ wait. I should probably go.’  
  
‘Go?’ Yuuri said between kisses, sounding like he wasn’t really listening. The way he tipped his hips, hard grind into Victor had Victor forget what he saying right with him.  
  
‘Yes,’ Victor said, already regretting this though he knew he was right. He pulled his hand out from under Yuuri’s shirt, trying to replace the jumper in a way that didn’t make Yuuri looked so debauched. But looking down at Yuuri, with his glasses slipping off and lips bitten, it really didn’t help at all. ‘I’ve got- I’ve got an early start. Long way to drive.’  
  
‘You can stay here,’ Yuuri said, all siren temptation as a hand slipped further up Victor’s back. Encouraging an arch that pushed them closer together. ‘If you don’t mind sharing the bed.’  
  
Yuuri stopped then, pulling away from where he had definitely been nibbling something into Victor’s neck to look at Victor with a look of sudden seriousness.  
  
‘Unless, you don’t want to? Because you don’t have to!’ Yuuri said, snatching his hands off Victor quickly and nearly dislodging them entirely off the narrow couch. ‘You can stay on the couch if you- I mean, if you’d prefer?’  
  
God, Victor really adored him.  
  
Victor leaned down, kissing the top of Yuuri’s head, before nosing down to tempt Yuuri into another sweetly lingering kiss. The kind that made Victor’s chest turn prickly with something too soon to call by name. Yuuri kissed Victor with a tenderness Victor wished he could carry around in his pocket.  
  
‘You’re wonderful,’ Victor told Yuuri, leaving one more kiss to Yuuri’s lips. ‘And I’d love to, but not tonight. I can’t leave Makkachin alone, she may take protest with one of the cushions and I’ll be cleaning stuffing up for days.’  
  
It wasn’t strictly speaking a lie. Victor did indeed have Makkachin to get home to, but he didn’t mention how he’d deliberately neglected to call the dog-sitter so Victor could have this perfectly made excuse before he ran too far, too fast and cocked everything up.  
  
(Well, perhaps not _everything)._  
  
‘Walk me to the car?’ Victor suggested and Yuuri nodded, red cheeks round like cherries Victor could pop into a drink.  
  
There was more kissing at the car, though more accurately, slightly over the car as Victor was being almost tipped over onto his back onto the bonnet by Yuuri was giving Victor a kiss that screamed _I want you to think about me later,_ something Victor intended to do regardless but the kiss certainly didn’t help.  
  
‘Um,’ Yuuri started, before licking his lips. Victor kissed him again while fidgeting behind himself for the handle of the Cadillac as the other hand got knotted in Yuuri’s jumper. ‘So I guess our morning session is cancelled?’  
  
‘You did fire me.’  
  
‘Yeah. Sorry.’  


‘Don’t be,’ Victor said, reaching out and taking Yuuri’s hand. Feeling how cold his fingers had gotten from the night air. ‘I’m glad because now I get to do this. And I’ve wanted to do this for a long time now.’  
  
‘Me too,’ Yuuri smiled back warmly. Victor tugged at him, undoing the distance they had finally managed to put between themselves so they were both leaning against the car. ‘I wish I could see you tomorrow.’  
  
‘Well, I do have a free session in the morning,’ Victor said, swinging he and Yuuri slightly and Yuuri laughed. ‘You should call by. Keep me company, in case I get into any trouble.’  
  
‘Shouldn’t I join a new gym if I want to keep you out of trouble?’  
  
‘It’s a date,’ Victor said, kissing Yuuri’s nose. ‘I’ll use my free morning to find you a new gym. I know someone in Knightsbridge that will do the job for you nicely, I think.’  
  
‘I hope their coaching isn’t as hands on as you,’ Yuuri teased, looking up at Victor like a saucy pup from beneath his dark hair. ‘I’m not sure I can afford any more termination fees.’  


 

* * *

  
  
Victor was in love.  
  
Granted, he knew that already. But now he more than knew it, Victor felt it deep down in his bones and it was the most amazing feeling in the world. The very best. Yuuri was perfect, but more than that, he was _not_ perfect. Victor had seen bits and pieces when they used to train together, but now that Yuuri was spending hours in Victor’ flat, tidying up after himself with nerve-wracking compulsion and snapping miserably on the phone if Victor called too early, Victor was beginning to see a more complete Yuuri than ever before. 

A Yuuri Victor was growing increasingly weak for- every kiss a burn that stayed warm until Victor got another, every conversation making Victor smile even when Yuuri was grousing at him. And more importantly, Victor was entirely confident that Yuuri liked him back because Yuuri- darling, adorable and grouchy Yuuri, told Victor nearly every day, one way or another.  
  
‘Can I ask you something?’ Yuuri asked one evening, almost three weeks into dating on the same couch that had now entered its own chapter to Victor’s ever growing fantasy collection. Victor looked up from where he was lying on Yuuri’s chest, away from the episode of _8 Out of Ten Cats Do Countdown_ that was droning on from Channel 4.  
  
‘Of course. What are you thinking?’  
  
‘Just, and you can stop me if I’m wrong,’ Yuuri said, eyes fixed somewhere on the wall behind them. Victor adjusted to sit up a bit more, but Yuuri held him close. ‘It’s just we’ve been seeing each other for a bit now and I was wondering… well, I’m hoping, it’s okay if I call you my boyfriend?’  
  
Victor kissed Yuuri then. Couldn’t do anything but that, really.  


‘Yes,’ Victor said, kissing Yuuri again before he could say something stupid like asking if Victor was sure. ‘Definitely yes. But only if I can, too.’  
  
Yuuri laughed, tugging Victor down into more kisses that were only interrupted when Phichit had walked in, wolf whistling loudly and telling them that if they wanted to snog while being uncomfortable, they could at least move it to Yuuri’s tiny bed so Phichit could use the living room.  
  
Victor had never been happier, if he was to be honest with himself. And Victor always endeavoured to be honest with himself where ever possible.  
  
But… perhaps he wasn’t being _quite_ as whole in his personal honesty as intended. As there was one little thing that niggled him. It was a small thing, really. Except that it wasn’t.  
  
‘You still haven’t slept with him?’ Chris said, loudly and incredulously so a few people turned their heads in curiosity. Victor tsked Chris in admonishment, bumping their shoulders as they walked together in Regent’s Park. ‘Darling, why on earth not? Haven’t gone off him, have you?’  
  
‘No!’ Victor said, shaking the ice in his smoothie as they stepped into the rose gardens. ‘The opposite, in fact. And it’s driving me crazy, I really do think I’m going mad because we’re so good together, Chris. The way Yuuri kisses, it’s unbelievable. It defies words.’  
  
‘And bed invitations, apparently,’ Chris said, taking a sip from his frappé and Victor did not appreciate that. ‘Then what’t the problem? It’s almost been a month, Victor. At this rate, I’m amazed you can walk straight as surely you’ve got no blood left to go to your head.’  
  
Victor didn’t want to admit Chris was right. But Chris was right. Victor was growing more and more itchy under his skin, getting harder faster and faster every time he and Yuuri happened to get a moment alone to rediscover just how good those kisses were. Falling more in love every time Yuuri agreed to slow down, even with his own jeans tented and chest heaving. At this rate, Victor was quite afraid he might make a mess in his trousers just from one carefully deployed look from Yuuri.  
  
‘I’m nervous,’ Victor admitted, feeling his neck grow hot. Chris stopped, clearly surprised. ‘I like him so much, Chris. I wanted to take things slow, show him how serious I am.’  
  
‘You booted me and listed him as your emergency contact. I’d say it’s serious, _cheri.’  
  
_ ‘Exactly! But now it’s been so long and god, the kisses are so good,’ Victor lamented, nearly spilling his smoothie as he waved a hand for emphasis. ‘Everything is so good. But after waiting this long, now I’m worried about disappointing him.’  
  
Chris gave Victor’s crotch a pointed look. ‘I very much doubt he’ll be disappointed, _cheri.’  
  
_ ‘Not that kind of disappointment.’  
  
‘Yuuri is a treasure, Victor. And he’s clearly sweet on you, I’d say you could just run your finger up the length of him and it’s Hello, Dolly.’  
  
Victor paused, giving Chris a look. ‘A treasure? I distinctly remember you calling my boyfriend a gnat.’  
  
‘That was before I met him,’ Chris said shamelessly, like it hadn’t been just a mere few weeks since Chris had been campaigning to Victor how most models needed to be leashed lest they walk blindly into traffic from checking their own reflection in the car tops.  
  
Yuuri had only managed to avoid meeting Chris for a week, before Chris had employed his sixth sense of knowing Victor was happy somewhere and in need of embarrassment. The sod had run into Victor and Yuuri down by Southbank and promptly invited himself along to their drink. Halfway through an overpriced pint at Queen Elizabeth’s, Victor had tried to stay only slightly worried that Chris was on the cusp of stealing Yuuri out from under him, (devilishly handsome flight attendant or no),watching cautiously the way Yuuri had blushed at every compliment Chris slid along the table to him in a voice Victor knew to spell trouble.  
  
Since then, Chris and Yuuri were becoming fast friends in a manner that Victor tried not to pout over too much, seeing as it had taken what felt like a considerable time before Yuuri ever started to open up to Victor in the beginning.  
  
(‘That was only because I liked you so much,’ Yuuri said to Victor when Victor admitted he was feeling a tad jealous as he drove Yuuri to a fitting for the upcoming Fashion Week. ‘I wanted to seem cool. Or mysterious. And I didn’t want you to see how much of a disaster I really am.’  
  
‘You can be the biggest disaster you like, as long as I’m the only one helping tidy up,’ Victor replied, feeling much better about himself as Yuuri laughed along with the radio).

‘Maybe I’m over thinking this too much,’ Victor said, kicking at a loose pebble on the path. ‘But I can’t help it. Yuuri is just…’  
  
Victor trailed off, not entirely sure what he was going to say as he couldn’t pick his favourite thing about his boyfriend at that moment. Though perhaps it was that, Victor felt as he blushed at the thought. That Yuuri was his _boyfriend._  
  
‘My only recommendation is that if you’re going to do it, best do it soon,’ Chris said with a shrug to Victor’s silence, reaching out to pluck a stray leaf from one of the rose bushes. ‘Otherwise someone braver than you might just beat you to it.’  
  


 

* * *

  
  
Victor’s bed had never looked better.  
  
The sheets were new- laundered with perfumed fabric conditioner and tucked with military precision to make a smooth, inviting expanse of bed to be admired from anyone should they walk into the room. Makkachin, bless her small fluffy heart, had been banished from the bedroom entirely and resigned to sleeping in the living room. Something she had taken quite the protest with at first, going by the big sad eyes Victor had gotten for his sins.  
  
And in a beautifully expensive jar in the bedside table, (tucked neatly away with a generous if less dainty bottle of lube purchased from one of the lesser known but perfectly reputable dens of iniquity in the neon corners of Soho along a fresh box of condoms), were a collection of various coloured silk rose petals Victor had seen and instantly knew he needed for the main event.  
  
Now if only Victor could convince Yuuri around to see the masterpiece and suitably mess it up, everything would be stepping along quite nicely.  
  
But as it was, London Fashion Week was finally rearing its beautifully styled head over the horizon and Victor found a frequently empty space next to him where he had grown used to having Yuuri. Yuuri had warned Victor that he would be busy, but Victor really hadn’t understood just how busy. Between Yuuri’s final fittings and his more intense sessions with his new gym and (inferior but they’ll have to do) trainer, Victor had felt he’d gotten a fair grip on Yuuri’s hectic and often unpredictable schedule. But that was nothing compared to now.  
  
Sleepovers, innocent as they were, had ceased entirely as Yuuri was kept so late at the Strand most evenings that even the night buses got sparse and after a few ill-advised stays by Victor leading to late arrivals at work, Yuuri had called them off with what seemed like genuine regret. Yuuri’s texts, the next best thing to actually having him, also became shorter, a tad more frantic. But everything ended with a kiss, so Victor tried not to be too bothered by it. It would hardly be fair, after all.  
  
(Victor may just have been the teensiest bit bothered).  
  
Unfortunately, Victor was most definitely cracking up with the way Yuuri was putting him through so many paces in wake of this mania. Kisses, when they happened between rushed coffee dates and drives where Victor could, were scorching like coals right through Victor’s resolve as his hands got bolder, his trousers tighter and his will weaker. At this rate, Victor was going to do something very _unromantic_ on the backseat of his Cadillac while parked under the Waterloo Bridge and without a silk rose petal in sight.  
  
Tonight, it was the last complete run-through before the show started in earnest on Thursday. Victor was waiting in the Cadillac, September rain rapping on the soft-top roof as he tried to keep an eye out for Yuuri, who should be along shortly. It was almost one AM and Victor was glad he’d taken the week off, finally using the holidays he usually ignored.  
  
Yuuri came out of the back entrance to the building, holding his bag over his head as he cast a quick glance around before spotting the car. He ran down the street, puddles splashing and he got into the passenger seat with a sigh.  
  
‘I hope this clears up for the show. Otherwise we’ll all be stuck backstage for an extra hour trying to get the grime off,’ he said, taking off his glasses to wipe the rain off them. Victor leaned over the gearstick, kissing Yuuri’s cheek and tasting rainwater there. Yuuri leaned into this, humming happily. ‘Hi. Sorry, didn’t even say it. Thanks for coming to get me.’  
  
‘Always, love,’ Victor said happily, realising too late what he’d said as he went to turn the key and when Victor did, he nearly flooded the engine he stuttered over starting so badly. Victor glanced over to Yuuri, who was watching with eyes wide, looking particularly so without his glasses to hide behind. Victor cleared his throat, managing to start the car. ‘And I checked the weather, it’s supposed to clear up.’  
  
Yuuri said nothing to that and Victor let them sit in the silence, trying not to panic too badly. Maybe Yuuri didn’t notice? Victor tapped a nervous finger on the steering wheel. They hadn’t been going out that long. It was probably too soon for _love._ Of all the things Victor could’ve pulled out of the bag, that’s the one he lay his grip on? Perhaps Chris had been right and Victor’s brain really was too blood-dry to think clearly.  
  
Soon, Yuuri started talking about his day and Victor tried to pay attention, but it was very hard when he could hear his own voice rattling around in his head like a siren. _Love, love, love._ And Yuuri hadn’t said anything back. Was that good? Was it bad? Victor wasn’t sure.  
  
He was so lost to this train of thought, he drove to Yuuri’s flat almost entirely on auto pilot, panicking a little as he pulled in against the footpath as Yuuri was looking at him with that _look_ Victor had come to recognise as the _Yuuri is looking for something._ Sometimes, that thing was Yuuri’s phone, or the case for his glasses. Other times, like now, it was an answer to a question Victor hadn’t realised he’d been asked.  
  
‘You know,’ Yuuri said quietly, a hand creeping across the car to touch Victor’s shoulder. Trail down his arm. The light from the streetlamp was hideously orange, but Yuuri was gorgeous under the neon glare of it in the car. ‘I don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow.’  
  
Victor’s mouth went dry as Yuuri leaned forward, dark lashes low beneath his glasses. Victor reached a hand out, touching Yuuri’s chin with the back of his fingers. ‘Oh?’  
  
‘If you want, you could stay the night?’ Yuuri suggested, eyes all dark invitation but his voice soft in question, almost there was even the smallest chance Victor might say no. How could Victor say no?  
  
Victor closed the distance, awkward over the centre console but worth it as he kissed Yuuri, catching him by surprise. It got hot fast, Yuuri’s hand fisting into Victor’s hair and tugging, his tongue wet and filthy in Victor’s mouth. Victor’s hands dropping, slipping under Yuuri’s jacket and tracing his ribs under the t-shirt. Felt the lines fo something beneath the fabric and Victor’s heart stopped, all blood rushing south at speed.  
  
‘Christ,’ was all Victor could manage, everything in him going from naught to sixty in too short a time so his head spun. In his head, Victor was picturing all manner of things Yuuri could’ve stolen home from the runway with him. Dainty lace, or stern black satin. Erotic, gorgeous and dying for Victor’s hands to snap the elastic of it.  
  
Yuuri took advantage of Victor’s complete breakdown, kissing him hungrily and getting a hand down between Victor’s legs. Victor moaned, pathetic and eager, as Yuuri gripped Victor through his trousers. They had made it this far a few times before, Victor having to tempt Yuuri out from sudden boughts of nervousness on occasion with a few sharp kisses and pointed tugging. But Yuuri was very sure of himself now it seemed, the meat of his palm rubbing in perfect friction against head of Victor’s cock.  
  
At this rate, they weren’t even going to get out of the car. Victor was incredibly close to just hitting the recline on the passenger seat and tearing Yuuri’s no doubt overpriced t-shirt from his body just for a taste. Yuuri was almost out of the seat anyway, half clambering onto Victor’s lap and it felt so good. Yuuri was such a good kisser, he was going to be so amazing and even if he wasn’t, Victor didn’t care because Victor loved him so, so much.  
  
Too much to rut against him in a car like some sort of kid in school who had just discovered something they likely shouldn’t have.  
  
Victor thought of his bed. The rose petals. The lube.  
  
Victor never thought he’d the kind of person to ever think _stuff the lube,_ but he was coming dangerously close to it. And that was telling in itself, really.  
  
‘I-' Victor was interrupted by another firm, dirty and loud kiss from Yuuri, who’s hand was now doing sinfully good things between Victor’s legs. Yuuri spent his days getting in and out of clothes, Victor shouldn’t be surprised with the ease Yuuri could find his way past a flimsy zipper with finesse. ‘I really want to.’  
  
Yuuri pulled back as Victor spoke through their kiss, glasses crooked and face frowning. Then it went and got worse as Yuuri sank into the beginnings of a pout. ‘That sounds like you’re about to say no.’  
  
God forgive him.  
  
‘I can’t leave Makkachin,’ Victor said, knowing this was the umpteenth time he had thrown his darling poodle under the bus for this. Yuuri nodded quietly, beginning to retreat to his side of the car again and the heat went cold so fast, it made Victor’s stomach sick with nerves. ‘But how about I treat you to lunch instead? Let you sleep in.’  
  
‘Okay,’ Yuuri said, sounding very unenthused by the idea. A part of Victor was a little flattered Yuuri was disappointed, as that certainly boded well for him. But Victor was definitely less keen on how Yuuri was putting himself together to get out of the car. ‘Talk tomorrow then.’  
  
‘Goodnight,’ Victor said, leaning over to try and catch one more kiss, but Yuuri got out of the car instead, leaving Victor hanging.  
  
Victor felt dreadful as he drove off, not even getting a goodbye wave from Yuuri before he vanished down the steps to his flat. But Victor would more than make it up to Yuuri tomorrow. _Yuuri had better be up for it,_ Victor thought, imaging all the things Victor could do to him. Because with the ways things had been building, Yuuri might not be let off the bed to attend the sodding Fashion Week to begin with.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
Everything was planned down the very last detail.  
  
Makkachin was with the kennels until the end of Fashion Week, so Victor would be entirely at Yuuri’s disposal. Victor very much intended to be at Yuuri’s disposal. Victor had dropped Makkachin off that morning, knowing any sulk she may suffer from it would be more than made up with from significant Yuuri cuddles. Something Victor knew she had a preference for, which had stung at first, but Victor couldn’t blame her. Yuuri was remarkably cuddly.  
  
Victor also had the bed beautifully made for when he would take Yuuri to it after their day out together. Rose petals scattered, even some candles peppered across every clear surface Victor could find. Victor had even opened the packet of condoms, tearing them all off individually so there would be absolutely no time wasted when the time came. And the time had definitely come… or would do, that is.  
  
Victor reached down to carefully adjust the position of one of the soft, blue petals. Perfect. It had to be perfect.  
  
Victor went over to the mirror, giving himself the once over. He’d probably over dressed for a day at the Sky Garden; new Prada shirt, equally expensive trousers in a slightly shined charcoal. Polished brogues. Victor had felt pretty confident, but as he turned and twisted in the mirror, he began to feel a tad self-conscious. Was this a bit too like he was off to a job interview?  
  
Victor supposed it was an interview of sorts. Checking his qualifications, and all that.  
  
Victor was disrupted by his thoughts by his phone pinging from the dresser. He walked over and picked it up, smiling at seeing Yuuri’s name.  
  
**11:43AM** _I’m so sorry, but I’m really not feeling well today. Can we rain check, I don’t want to be sick before LFW.  
  
_ Victor skipped replying, heading straight to a call. When Yuuri answered, he definitely didn’t sound right. He was a touch moody, brushing off Victor’s concerns by saying that he didn’t need Victor fretting. Yuuri just needed the day to get himself together and they could meet up on Thursday before work instead. Victor teetered on his feet, unable to shake the feeling of unease in his chest.  
  
‘If you’re sure,’ Victor said, sounding more unsure himself. Yuuri sighed.  
  
‘I’ll be fine, Victor. It’s probably just exhaustion,’ Yuuri said and Victor stared down at his expertly arranged bedspread with disappointment. ‘Just go and enjoy your day, okay?’  


‘It’ll be considerably less fun without you, _dorogoi,’_ Victor said, strategically placing a Russian petname this time. Just to picture the way Yuuri’s cheeks were going red. They always did when Victor spoke Russian.  
  
‘Hope so. Talk later.’  
  
And then Yuuri was gone, hanging up so suddenly it took Victor a second to realise the conversation had ended.  
  
Victor stood in all his finery, his best laid plans ruined around him and tapped a foot. Concerned. Yuuri definitely didn’t sound like himself and Victor couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Perhaps Yuuri was just sick, like he said. But Victor couldn’t stop thinking about the way, so many weeks ago, Yuuri had nearly crumbled with worry about not being _perfect_ for the show.  
  
Is that what Yuuri was doing now? Victor didn’t want Yuuri to be alone if that was true. And knowing Yuuri, he’d just try and be as stubborn as possible about it in an effort to not bother Victor with it. But Victor wanted very much to be bothered with it.  
  
Decision made, Victor pocketed his phone and snatched his wallet from the dresser.  
  
Almost two hours later, Victor stood before the door of Yuuri’s flat armed with a five pence bag from the local Sainsbury’s containing all possible essentials Victor felt Yuuri might need. Essentials like paracetamol, Lucozade, a bunch of bananas, the nice tissues with aloe vera and if all else failed, a particularly large Dairy Milk.  
  
Victor knocked with confidence, and was surprised when he didn’t see Yuuri coming. He tried again, even trying the doorbell when that failed though Victor hated using Yuuri’s obnoxiously loud and shrill doorbell. Victor tried not to worry, but maybe Yuuri really was sick and not able to get out of bed?  
  
Victor smiled with relief as he saw the mottled form of Yuuri approach through the glass at last.  
  
Yuuri opened the door, blinking blearily at Victor for a few moments. ‘Victor? What are you doing here?’  
  
Yuuri… really didn’t look well, now that Victor saw him. Even though he wasn’t wearing his glasses, Yuuri’s eyes seemed particularly unfocused. Almost glassy. His round, adorable face was heavily flushed as well and Yuuri fidgeted with the rumpled flannel he was wearing. The rumpled flannel that from his bare legs, seemed to be the _only_ thing he was wearing.  
  
Victor swallowed thickly, forcing himself to look away from Yuuri’s legs. Bare, smooth and looking incredibly inviting. Victor leaned over the threshold, kissing Yuuri softly and holding the bag aloft. ‘I couldn’t do nothing with my perfect boyfriend feeling poorly, could I?’  
  
‘I…’ Yuuri started, then stopped. Victor waited, smile dropping like a stone when suddenly, Yuuri burst into tears. Victor stood, utterly baffled as Yuuri turned away from the door and walking back into the flat. Victor followed, putting the shopping down with little grace as he followed Yuuri down the hall. ‘I really don’t know what to do with you.’  
  
‘With me?’ Victor asked, completely lost. Yuuri looked at him, eyes bright with tears and he crossed his arms. In the oversized shirt, Yuuri looked quite small and Victor wasn’t sure if it was cute or terrible.  
  
‘You can’t keep teasing me like this,’ Yuuri said, voice trembling. He wiped at one of his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. ‘It’s not fair, you know.’  
  
‘I really don’t,’ Victor said, feeling if possible, even more like he had lost the grip of himself entirely here. Yuuri glared at him, which was horrible but Victor couldn’t help but think Yuuri looked quite cute. Glowering all tough like that, half-way to the nip it seemed.  
  
‘What are we doing here, Victor?’ Yuuri asked, gesturing between the two of them. Victor stammered, not sure what to say to that. ‘Because I don’t know what you want from me. You’re so wonderful one moment. Saying the loveliest things-' Yuuri stopped to sniffle and Victor’s heart broke. ‘And then you’re getting in your car and driving off like you can’t get away fast enough. I just don’t understand.’  
  
‘I just wanted to take things slowly,’ Victor said weakly and Yuuri stared at him, mouth open. ‘I didn’t want to sleep with you.’  
  
This was clearly the wrong thing to say.  
  
‘What?’ Yuuri asked, shaking his head slightly. ‘Why?’  
  
‘Because you deserved it!’ Victor said truthfully, waving vaguely as he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands when presented with a Yuuri he could not touch. Yuuri made a face, completely baffled. ’I wanted to show you how serious I was about you. I wanted to be… romantic.’  
  
‘Romantic?’  
  
‘You know, like-’ Victor stopped, shrugging and realising how utterly pathetic it all sounded out loud now. ‘I was worried that you thought I just wanted to sleep with you. And I did, I do, mind! But I didn’t want you to think it was all I was after, so I wanted to wait. And maybe I should’ve said, but then I was worried you’d think I was shallow and-‘  
  
‘Victor, you…’ Yuuri interrupted before trailing off with a small sigh, before he started tearing up again and Victor spluttered, alarmed. ‘You idiot. I don’t need all that stuff, you’ve been romantic from beginning. Or at least, you have for me. You’ve always been enough for me.’  
  
Yuuri blushed then as he shut himself up, shuffling on his feet. He looked away, furiously wiping at the tears that kept falling.  
  
‘Oh, Yuuri,’ Victor pleaded, walking up to Yuuri and reaching to brush at one of the tears. Yuuri let him, which wasn’t a bad sign. ‘Please don’t cry. I hate seeing you upset.’  
  
‘I’m not upset!’ Yuuri snapped, pouting again and staring up Victor with a determined glare. He pointed an accusing finger up Victor, shorter than usual in his bare feet. ‘I’m frustrated. These are frustrated tears. It’s different.’  
  
‘Not to me,’ Victor said, kissing the top of Yuuri’s head. ‘I don’t want you to cry.’  
  
‘Well, it’s your fault,’ Yuuri mumbled petulantly and Victor knew he shouldn’t laugh, but he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a small huff of a chuckle at that. All this angst… and for what? Yuuri was right. Victor was an idiot.  
  
Yuuri punched him lightly in the chest. ‘You’re not allowed to laugh at me. I’m angry with you.’  
  
‘I’m sorry,’ Victor said, pulling back to meet Yuuri’s eye. Yuuri sniffled again, wiping at his face with the flannel sleeve. Victor kissed him on the nose, trying not to vomit too much _bloody hell, love, I’d rather die than have you look like this again_ all over him despite how the words were threatening to do so _._ ‘Oh, Yuuri. I’m so sorry I ever gave the impression that I was anything other than interested. I assure you, I’m very interested.’  
  
Yuuri buried his face in his hands, hiding entirely. ‘God. You must think I’m so stupid.’  
  
‘No. Never,’ Victor promised, prying Yuuri’s stubborn hands from his face.  
  
Sod the rose petals. Sod the whole flaming mess of it, because Victor would not let Yuuri think for another second there was any part of Victor that didn’t want him.  
  
Victor kissed him, chest going tight with something warm, brilliant and lovely as Yuuri practically melted into it. Then Yuuri pushed at Victor’s chest, pulling away and something like a smile beginning to unfurl. ‘No, I’m angry. I’m supposed to be angry.’  
  
‘How’s that working out for you?’ Victor murmured against Yuuri’s lips, feeling Yuuri’s teeth as he grinned. They swapped kisses back and forth, Yuuri’s hands finally getting brave and reaching out to grab at Victor’s shirt. He tugged Victor down and Victor got his arms around Yuuri’s waist, bunching him close as their kiss got deeper.  
  
Victor crowded Yuuri up against the peeling wallpaper of the hallway, Yuuri humming deep in his chest and Victor felt he could taste it. Wanted to, something hungry growing teeth in the hot pit of Victor’s stomach as Yuuri became so soft beneath him, under his fingers like something Victor could tear his nails into. Victor groaned, overcome suddenly because Yuuri was everything Victor had been wanting for so long and Victor was tired of restricting. 

Victor opened his mouth, slipped his tongue between Yuuri’s lips and when Yuuri kissed him back with intent, Victor’s knees went under the weight of heat that washed straight through his stomach, all the way down to his groin. Yuuri’s got a hand around Victor’s neck, pinning them together and Victor closed the distance, crushing his body against Yuuri’s the way they’ve only ever come close to before.  
  
‘I want you,’ Victor said, kissing down Yuuri’s jaw, to his neck. Sucking marks there with desperation and Yuuri arched his back, the feel of his cock hard through the flannel they were pressed so close. It dragged across Victor’s thigh and the noise that came through his teeth was aching. ’I have wanted you for- god, since I saw you.’  
  
‘Ah, really?’ Yuuri sighed as Victor bit where he was kissing, Yuuri making a whimpering noise as Victor kissed his way back up to Yuuri’s lips. ‘But you’re so- so _you know.’  
  
_ Victor didn’t quite know but he had an idea, bruising his lips against Yuuri’s and savouring the filthy little moan Yuuri made from the contact. Victor ran his hands down Yuuri’s sides, gathered up the end of his flannel. It could’ve been sleazy, the way Yuuri wiggled and his lips folded into a moue. But it was so good Victor couldn’t get at it faster. Victor swore when he tugged the flannel up to reveal that Yuuri wasn’t wearing anything underneath and Victor looked down between them- at the beautiful, thick line of Yuuri’s cock from root to shiny, dripping tip.  
  
‘You’re gorgeous,’ Victor said aloud, as it felt like it should be said as such for good measure. Yuuri’s face was flushed again, eyes half-lidded and he grabbed Victor by the back of the neck to bring their lips together as Victor reached down, finally- _finally_ getting a hand around Yuuri the way Victor was religiously doing with himself in the mornings.  
  
Yuuri’s kiss broke as his head tipped back, mouth in a sinful, gaping _oh_ as Victor stroked Yuuri up, then down. Felt the tacky stick of precome, blood rushing and cock swelling as Victor wondered how hot Yuuri must be to be so wet already. And he was, wet. Victor’s hand was covered in it, easing the way as he pumped Yuuri in tune to his breath. Victor’s new trousers were now at least two sizes too small and Victor needed to be out of them, as soon as possible.  
  
Victor sloughed down Yuuri’s cock slowly, enjoying every drag on the foreskin and bead of spend from where it leaked between his fingers as he kissed Yuuri’s face. Large, clumsy kisses to Yuuri’s cheek and his jawline. Catching Yuuri’s breath like a net. Yuuri turned his head, grinding his hips forward as Victor touched him. Yuuri kissed Victor, bit on Victor’s lower lip and when he spoke, his words were laced in soft accent and hard promise that tugged on a tight, short line from Victor’s head to his balls.  
  
‘Will you stay this time?’  
  
‘I’m never leaving again,’ Victor said, which was frightfully true but going by the way Yuuri was kissing him and grinding into his hand, Yuuri was not afraid.  
  
Yuuri’s hands released him to move down and fidget with the belt of Victor’s trousers. It was happening. Right now, in this dingy little flat, in the middle of the day and Yuuri’s thifted flannel sagging off one shoulder. Victor had never wanted anything more in his life. But there was one thing he needed to do. One part of his perfect, perfect plan that had to be said.  
  
‘I like you,’ Victor said through his kiss, hands groping along Yuuri’s delicious body. Yuuri paused, hands stumbling over the belt as he broke the kiss. Victor’s heart ached, his cock even more so with the look Yuuri was giving him. Victor really did. Like him, that was. Victor blinked, suddenly self-conscious as Yuuri still said nothing. ‘And not because of this! Not because we’re- you know, that’s not why! I’ve liked you for ages without it! Not that this isn’t great, because this is so, so great and I don’t-‘  
  
‘Oh, shut up,’ Yuuri said, grinning before kissing Victor again. The belt clinked, hung heavy as Yuuri tore at the zip of Victor’s trousers. It rang in Victor’s ear.  
  
Victor groaned into Yuuri’s kiss as Yuuri got a hand around him. Skin to skin, Victor wondering if he’d even last past this point because just knowing it was Yuuri who had a hand around him at this moment was setting Victor’s blood on fire. Victor brought them together again, sucking on Yuuri’s tongue as they met in the middle, Yuuri’s cock so wet that his slick was cool.  
  
Victor released Yuuri, gently squeezing the wrist of the hand Yuuri had around him, before taking both he and Yuuri in hand. Yuuri choked, eyes shut and rutted. Victor wanted to taste it and fuck it, wanted to know every last inch of it.  
  
It was so good, leaning against Yuuri’s small, sweaty body and sticking shirt as Victor jerked them off. It was so good, to give kisses in a tide and hear the way Yuuri’s voice trembled in the back of his throat. It was so good. But it could be better.  
  
‘Bedroom,’ Victor got out, only parting from Yuuri’s lips briefly. Yuuri was nodding already, dragging his wet lips over Victor’s skin. Grazed his teeth on the edge of Victor’s chin he looked up at Victor from there, tongue pressed up under his front teeth. Yuuri blinked, once, tongue poking out pink.  
  
Victor growled. There wasn’t any other word for it. He got a hand in Yuuri’s hair, tugged on it and kissed Yuuri as he pulled at him. Answering the challenge with strength, the strength Victor had spent months training, sculpting in Yuuri as a coach and his muscles burned in anticipation. Victor pushed his hips forward and released them, slipping his hand to grasp at the meat of Yuuri’s ass as they ground together.  
  
When Victor’s hands slipped down between Yuuri’s cheeks, he lost his breath and nearly stumbled. Nearly stood on Yuuri’s bare feet. Because Yuuri was wet inside, open like Victor’s already been and gone.  
  
‘You-' Victor buried two fingers into Yuuri, burning from the way Yuuri tossed his head back and wailed. Too loud, too dirty. They’d only just started. Victor loved it. ‘Are unbelievable.’  
  
Yuuri laughed. He- he fucking laughed, just the breath of it, and it was like the red end of a cigarette.  
  
Victor wanted to lift Yuuri up, crush him against the wall and spread his legs. But Victor didn’t do that. Instead, he fisted his hands in Yuuri’s sodding flannel and tugged him around. Yuuri swung on the balls of his feet, ballet grace and he was smiling. Victor kissed it, licked the line of it and found himself grinning right back. Yuuri’s smile wiped on him like lipstick.  
  
Victor’s shoes get left in the hall, kicked off as Yuuri walked backwards with his dark eyes. Yuuri twisted the end of his shirt, it was only half on him as it was. Draping off his shoulder and all the buttons done up wrong. Victor hadn’t even noticed before. Victor’s own shirt got tossed as well, the only thing he managed to get off himself properly as even his trousers were still sagging around his hips. Victor stopped because he made it to the doorframe Yuuri was leaning against, the smell of Yuuri suddenly everywhere as Victor kissed him again and they stood on the precipice of Yuuri’s room.  
  
This time, Victor did bend. He sank down, hands roaming and he got a grip on Yuuri’s thighs. ‘Lift,’ Victor said, just like in class and Yuuri did. He jumped, hands around Victor’s neck and wrapped his legs around Victor’s waist.  
  
It was too much weight, really. And Victor fell forward, pressing Yuuri into the door and it rattled in its frame as they all crashed against the wall together. But Yuuri was moaning, kissing Victor again with a violence Victor hadn’t expected but was craving now he had it. Victor readjusted, held Yuuri better. Yuuri’s grip with his legs was so powerful. Victor had made good work of this one.  
  
Victor carried Yuuri to the bed, laying him down with care and Yuuri fell back against the pillows, hands over his head. Victor leaned over, caged Yuuri’s body in as Yuuri bent his knees and Victor grinned, brushed his nose along Yuuri’s. ‘You look amazing.’  
  
Yuuri arched his body, concave and eager. 'So do you.’ 

Victor kissed Yuuri’s cheek, hands pushing up his flannel. ‘Like you can tell, you’re not wearing your glasses.’  
  
‘I remember,’ Yuuri said confidently, the last word of such trailing off as Victor started to slide down his body. Victor sank off the edge of the bed, grabbing Yuuri by the thighs and dragging him down with him. Yuuri sucked in a breath as Victor pulled him, his ass hitting the edge of the bed as Victor got onto his knees. Bent down on the floor, next to the bed with his trousers bunched around his thighs.  
  
Victor ran a hand up Yuuri’s leg, bypassing his cock and listening to Yuuri’s whine of petulance. Victor dug the heel of his palm into Yuuri’s abdomen, watched Yuuri squirm on the absolute state of his bedsheets. Yuuri seemingly burrowed his bed around him like a nest and now he’d let Victor into it. At last.  
  
Yuuri was already… he’d gotten this far, for whatever reason. Victor knew it’d be fair game, it’d have to be.  
  
‘Can I?’  
  
‘Yes, yes.’ Yuuri was panting, Victor could see the burst of his chest from where the flannel was falling open in lopsided lines. Yuuri fisted his hands in the sheets, head back so all Victor could see was the underside of his chin. ‘Anything.’  
  
Victor licked right up the taint of him, from hole to the base of his balls and Yuuri howled. Shock, probably but Victor grinned against the heat of Yuuri’s body, pleased anyway. There was lube, it lay thick on Victor’s tongue just from that but it didn’t matter. Victor pushed Yuuri’s legs apart, straddle stretch. And then he opened his mouth, pushing past Yuuri’s hole with long, wet kisses. Yuuri’s legs snapped together, pressed against Victor’s shoulders and holding him there.  
  
Yuuri was so hot, skin salty from it and the mess of his own cock, no doubt. Victor could taste it, loving the way Yuuri was so loose already. Victor felt his skin was too small for him, like he might burst if he didn’t get enough of the writhing creature in front of him. Victor’s tongue slipped in and out so easily, Yuuri twisting like it was almost too much but Victor got a hold on him. Victor fucked with his tongue in a way he felt he’d half forgotten, it had been so long since he’d had anyone he fancied doing it to. But Yuuri made a dream of it, so responsive and eager, and perfect. Victor could hear his own blood rushing in his ears.  
  
But Victor’s cock was the most painfully interested part of himself. There was something so thick in his gut that Victor sat against his haunches with the weight of it, tearing a hole there it ached so badly. Victor needed to get inside of the beautiful man under his mouth, twisting in his hands so their skin rubbed raw together. Victor needed to fuck him, wanted to fuck him. He told Yuuri as such, sucking bruises in the dip of Yuuri’s pelvis like a signature.  
  
‘God, yes,’ Yuuri sighed, giggling like he had the balls to do it. And he did. Victor loved that most about Yuuri. Every time Victor thought he had a hold of the situation, Yuuri would slip through his fingers with wink.  
  
‘Lube? Condom?’ Victor was rewarded surprisingly quickly, Yuuri scrabbling through the sheets for a moment before tossing the bottle down towards Victor. It was a pittance, but it was enough and Victor made such a ruin of Yuuri with his mouth anyway. Victor poured it out in his hands, dropping his head against Yuuri’s bent leg with relief as he stroked himself. ‘Yuuri, love. _Malish,’_ Victor added when Yuuri still did not help. ‘Condom?’  
  
‘Want you,’ Yuuri said, all temptation and he took himself in hand, circling his own thumb over the head of his cock and Victor’s mouth watered. ‘Please.’  
  
Fucking- fucking playing dirty there. But Victor huffed a laugh, holding his cock where it throbbed heavy at the base in one hand and circling one of Yuuri’s ankles with the other.  
  
‘Next time. Promise, but you’ll thank me later.’  
  
Yuuri sighed, waving a hand like Victor was being unreasonable and not the respectful boyfriend Victor was straining to be. But Victor watched with only a mild impatience as Yuuri took his sweet bloody time before pointing towards the bedside drawer. Victor kissed the ankle he was holding in thanks, Yuuri’s room so cramped Victor didn’t even need to lean much to pull the drawer open. Victor came back with his prize.  
  
The condom went on easy, but Yuuri was so flushed now. It poured off his body, fogging his cheeks as he looked at Victor from hooded eyes. Parted his lips and pushed his legs apart again, exposing the sopping, stretched mess of himself. Victor swore in Russian, called Yuuri things he would never think to call him in English. He reached out, grabbing Yuuri by his bent knees and pulling him clear off the bed.  
  
Yuuri moaned, raw. He did so as he plunged down onto Victor’s lap and the flannel fluttered, split open like Yuuri’s legs around Victor’s waist. Victor got a hand between them, pulling his cock up so that when Yuuri slipped down again, Victor found himself pushing _in.  
  
_ The way Yuuri’s body went then. Almost like a spasm, like he had been pushed suddenly past his limit and Yuuri whined as Victor let gravity do the work for them. Yuuri was all give, but as Victor’s cock sank past the stretched welcome of Yuuri’s hole, Victor could feel the tension that ran a line up the base of Yuuri’s back, curled Yuuri’s toes. And it was so fucking good.  
  
Yuuri tossed his head back against the edge of the bed, threw a hand behind himself to get some kind of leverage. Victor snapped his hips up and Yuuri spoke, desperate and his eyes tightly shut; ‘Ah! Yeah, yes. Please, please.’  
  
Victor held Yuuri by the hips, put the power to his knees and pushed up. Yuuri cried out, a choke around the girth of Victor’s name and it sounded delicious like that. Coming out of Yuuri’s mouth so needy. Victor fucked Yuuri in every way he’d felt he shouldn’t before. He fucked Yuuri sloppy, his hands perfect to the mould of where Yuuri’s waist melted into his hips.  
  
But Victor couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t stop looking at the way Yuuri was gasping, mouth hanging open. The way Yuuri turned his head, trying to catch Victor’s eye and the way Yuuri’s teeth flashed once he had. It was a flush on Victor’s skin, a wave of _Christ_ that washed over Victor right in the balls.  
  
Victor was getting so lost to the rhythm of it now. The sound of Yuuri bouncing in his lap and Victor was pushing forward, nearly having Yuuri tipped entirely back onto the bed as Victor fucked him through it. Yuuri’s mouth was unstoppered, his tongue filthy in Victor’s ear as he moaned encouragement, praise. Victor was blushing, beneath everything because no one had ever told him his cock was the best before and when Yuuri said it, with his round little cheeks and button nose, Victor couldn’t help but believe him.  
  
‘Ah- ah.’ Yuuri was babbling, a hand running over his own chest. Pushing at the lopsided flannel, sinking lower and Victor watched with a hard kick to the gut as Yuuri spread his fingers over his stomach. Arousal grew thorns, sticking inside of Victor like a splinter.  _'Kimochii_ _…’_   
  
And Victor had never fucked Yuuri before, but he was pretty confident he was doing it right just now because while Victor didn’t have the faintest idea what  _kimochii_ meant, it was without a doubt the hottest thing he had ever heard.  
  
It pulled on his cock, right at the base and Victor briefly saw white, knowing. ‘Yuuri, Yuuri. I’m gonna come, Christ. Can I?’  
  
_‘Hai, hai,’_ Yuuri replied and Victor knew that much at least. Yuuri reached down the rest of the way, taking his cock in hand and furiously pumping it. His ass squeezed around Victor’s cock, so tight as it pulsed on the head of it. Victor’s hips slammed against Yuuri, Yuuri’s eyes snapping shut like doors as he bit his own lip.  
  
When Victor came, it punched him. Right in the chest and tore something out of his cock that was hard won pleasure as he shook all over. Victor tipped forward, head resting against Yuuri’s shoulder as Yuuri groaned. Whined, almost sulked-  
  
Yuuri came then suddenly, all over his hand, all over Victor and he seemed to lose his breath as he did so. Victor kissed Yuuri’s neck, mouthed at his ear. He whispered how good Yuuri looked, how amazing he felt. How Victor thought he was the best person Victor had ever met, how Victor loved him.  
  
‘What?’ Yuuri breathed, voice croaking. Victor blinked, brain foggy but stomach suddenly dropping as he realised what he’d said. Victor buried his face into Yuuri’s neck, reaching his hands down under Yuuri’s thighs to get a good grip.  
  
‘You’re wonderful,’ Victor said instead of an explanation, hoping Yuuri might just write it off. Yuuri muttered to himself for a moment, but was abruptly cut off once Victor lifted him off his cock, squirming with something almost like a mewl as Victor deposited him on the bed.  
  
‘Cheating,’ Yuuri managed to huff out as Victor fidgeted in the bedroom drawer, fishing out some wet wipes. Victor kissed Yuuri’s knee before moving to take care of himself.  
  
By the time Victor was roughly put back together, Yuuri looked dreamily asleep. Victor clambered up on the bed beside Yuuri, placing the wet wipes on Yuuri’s stomach to Yuuri’s displeasure, going by the way he swiped them off himself.  
  
‘Cold.’  
  
‘Necessary,’ Victor teased, affection squeezing like a fist in his chest as Yuuri faced him off with a pretty little moue. Victor laughed as he lay back down onto the bed, only to feel something stick him _hard_ in the back. ‘Ow!’  
  
Victor reached behind himself, fishing through the ruined bedsheets for the offending item. His hand got around something smooth, long and sticky, mind already ahead of itself before he even pulled it out right as Yuuri suddenly cried _wait!  
  
_ Victor held the dildo between them, a lot of aspects from the last hour slotting together like perfectly oiled gears as the picture of what exactly Yuuri had been up to before Victor showed up came together in Victor’s head. Victor looked at the smooth, blue dildo, not entirely sure if he was impressed or not. Perhaps he was, but more than anything, Victor felt relieved.  
  
All that time, all that agonising… and they’d both been driving the other equally mad it seemed. Victor laughed, poking Yuuri with the sticky end of the dildo as Yuuri reached blindly for it, scrabbling to get it out Victor’s hands while he hid his face in Victor’s chest.  
  
‘Miss me that much?’ Victor said, kissing where Yuuri’s shoulder rounded off, laughing as Yuuri finally managed to get the dildo off him. Yuuri made a small squeak, tossing the dildo behind him where it clattered loudly off the wardrobe. Yuuri muttered into Victor’s chest as Victor idly wiped his hand on the sheet. They were already ruined, after all. ‘What was that, love?’  
  
Yuuri got up on an elbow, pouting down at Victor though it was undone by how dreadfully shagged he looked. ’Can’t miss what I didn’t have.’  
  
‘You have it now,’ Victor said confidently, Yuuri still sulking slightly, but Victor wouldn’t have that. He got his under under the bundled fabric of the flannel, tickling Yuuri along the stomach. Yuuri cried out, tumbling over onto the side and Victor rolled with him. Yuuri was always so good at making Victor laugh, only fair Victor repaid the favour somewhat.  
  
Victor intended to repay it as many times over as possible, and next time… next time when Victor said _it,_ he wouldn’t bottle it.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
It was the first night of Yuuri’s set at Fashion Week. Victor had lost himself to the buzz of it; the flash of cameras and the blaring music. People corralled by massive screens, posters and faux-carpets. Victor found himself carried through the current of balayage-curled influencers, powerful designer presences and cygnine models, winding his way towards the stage of Yuuri’s show to where he was now.  
  
And Yuuri was nervous.  


Yuuri was wearing it almost half as well as the spectacular suit ensemble that was gorgeously sculpted to his body. Indigo, sheer and glittering under the lights from verdant and rubied rhinestones. The piece was a sister of sorts to Victor’s from the shoot, it seemed. It was tapered to Yuuri’s hard-won waist, tan chest bronzed under the deep v of the matching leotard beneath. And to go with the whole thing, was Yuuri’s stress streaked down his face with gritted teeth and furrowed brows.  
  
Victor tried to think of what to say, reaching out for Yuuri’s hand before he ran it through his beautifully styled hair. Pushed back, with shimmering glitter brushed through it. Yuuri linked their fingers, eyes staring out past the make-up station towards the stage entrance for the catwalk. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, making him look all the more serious. Victor leaned over, trying to catch Yuuri’s eye.  
  
‘Yuuri?’  
  
‘I’m going to cock it up,’ Yuuri said by way of an answer, looking to Victor with wide eyes. ‘I’ve tripped a million times during rehearsal. Those funny steps they added at the end, these stupid heels.’  
  
Victor was rather partial to the heels, but neglected to mention as he knew Yuuri wouldn’t really appreciate the sentiment right now. Yuuri shifted his weight on the stiletto points of them, eyes somewhere down at the buttons of Victor’s own shirt. Yuuri fidgeted with Victor’s pass with his free hand, other fingers tight on Victor’s hand. He straightened the pass, turned it over. Turned it back. Victor took Yuuri’s chin.  
  
‘Yuuri, stop. You’re fretting,’ Victor said kindly and Yuuri bit his lip, eyes still bright. ‘You’re going to do wonderfully.’  
  
‘You would say that. You’re biased.’  
  
‘Doesn’t make me wrong,’ Victor said smugly, tempting a small laugh out of Yuuri though he tried to frown through it. Yuuri tugged Victor closer by the pass, lanyard around his neck and Victor went, bending his forehead against Yuuri’s. ‘You won’t trip. And if you do, you’ll make it look good. You make anything look good.’  
  
‘I’d want to,’ Yuuri said, and Victor could feel the way he was shaking, they were so close now. Victor held onto Yuuri’s waist, trying to steady him. ‘Especially when I have you to compete with.’  
  
‘Me?’ Victor said, kissing Yuuri’s nose. ‘I’m the one punching above my weight here. Do you know that my boyfriend is a model?’ Victor kissed Yuuri’s cheek, grinning when he felt Yuuri lean against him. ‘He’s a _lingerie_ model. Working London Fashion Week.’  
  
‘I won’t make it to the end of the week if I fuck it up and get the boot.’  
  
‘Speaking as someone who was sacked recently,’ Victor said, looking up to meet Yuuri’s eyes and extremely pleased to see Yuuri smiling back up at him. ‘I say you’re safe.’  
  
‘You did deserve it,’ Yuuri said, though he didn’t look all that serious about it. Yuuri’s hand travelled up from the past, warm pressure on Victor’s chest. ‘Inappropriate behaviour and all that.’  
  
‘What’s sauce for the goose,’ Victor replied, squeezing Yuuri’s hand from where they were still holding each other. ‘Probably the best thing that ever happened to me, really. The universe works in mysterious ways!’  
  
‘So you’re saying if I do mess it up tonight and get fired, I’ll also be rewarded by the universe?’ Yuuri said, raising his eyebrows skeptically and Victor shrugged.  
  
‘All I know is,’ Victor said, holding Yuuri close. ‘That one day, a gorgeous man walked into my gym. And he didn’t order marshmallows, because he was already thinking about the job. This job, your job. That you are going to do well.’  
  
Yuuri looked away as one of the directors walked through, grouping some of the other idling models together. They would be starting soon, and Victor would need to get back to his seat. But Yuuri was still holding his hand tightly, his hand open palm over Victor’s chest. When Yuuri looked up again, he was still chewing on his lip.  
  
‘You seduced me the moment I met you,’ Victor confessed, watching the way Yuuri’s eyes dropped to his lips briefly. ‘And when you go out there, you could be wearing the garment bag the suit came in, because _you’re_ what makes the clothes special, Yuuri. Just you.’  
  
Victor kissed him, feeling the way Yuuri froze as though surprised, before sinking back into the kiss with a soft breath out of his nose. It was warm on Victor’s cheek and when Victor pulled away, Yuuri was looking slightly dazed.  
  
‘You’ll have everyone wrapped around your finger,’ Victor said, holding up Yuuri’s hand and letting go, only to bend his finger around Yuuri’s ring one like jewellery. ‘You certainly have me.’  
  
‘Yeah?’ Yuuri asked, quietly but he was beginning to smile now. Just up one corner, with the smallest hint of teeth. ‘You know, that sounds like a marriage proposal.’  
  
Victor blushed, because it really didn’t sound half as crazy as it probably should have. He should probably start watching himself here, as the way things were going, Victor was perhaps a touch in over his head. But it was very hard to regret it when Yuuri was looking up at him like that, just this side of cheeky and Victor remembered that underneath all that anxious bluster, there was rock hard core of bravery there. There were worse posts to hitch your horse to.  
  
‘Think carefully about the answer then,’ Victor said, loving the way Yuuri’s smile got broader. The more sure of himself he looked. ‘Got my heart in your hands, it seems.’  
  
Suddenly, Yuuri grabbed Victor by the lanyard, pulling him down again and into another kiss. Victor couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything but the way Yuuri’s tongue was hot against his, the way Yuuri got a hand into Victor’s hair, tightened his grip on the lanyard so it pulled on the back of Victor’s neck and kept him pinned. Yuuri kissed him like they were at home, like they were still turning through the sheets and it was setting Victor’s blood on fire. Victor held Yuuri by the waist, ran his palm up Yuuri’s back and scraped over the rhinestones there.  
  
Someone was calling, lights were flashing around them. When Yuuri finally pulled away, Victor felt like he was punch drunk and Yuuri was grinning at him. Yuuri was like something almost too luminous to look at and it felt like having the sun on his face. Victor grinned back, in love.  
  
‘I have to go,’ Yuuri said, making no move to do as such.  
  
‘I’ll be watching,’ Victor promised, slowly following Yuuri as Yuuri reluctantly made his way to the other side of the backstage area, where the other models were convening. Their fingers lingered, and it was daft really, how loath Victor was to part with him. ‘You’ll be amazing!’  


Yuuri faltered slightly. ‘Got more faith than I do.’  
  
‘I have enough for both of us,’ Victor said, blowing a kiss with his hand as a director grabbed Yuuri by the shoulder and started ushering him towards the start off point. ‘That’s my job after all!’  
  
Yuuri waved back, looking a little more sure of himself. And for that, Victor considered himself a success before running off to his seat on the other side of the catwalk. Yuuri didn’t need Victor to tell him he could do the job, but it certainly didn’t hurt to have someone in his corner. And Victor was more than happy to be.  
  
He was rather gone on Yuuri. And who knows, maybe next year…  
  
Victor looked down at his own bare hands, smiling at himself for being so silly. They had loads of time and if it was one thing Victor had learned lately, it was to be patient. The best things came to those who waited, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Goes without saying, but this is a heavily adapted version of in's and outs of modelling, completely manipulated for my own purposes. Also lmao the sex toys tag is so titillating and then the reality is so... not xD And of course, a cock-ring is usually used to _keep_ an erection but creative liberty and all that jazz. As usual, un-beta'd and all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Also this is all the fault of the Sophia Webster's _The Evangeline Sandal_ , which are so... so beautiful. I want them so badly T_T 
> 
> victorsporosya.tumblr.com


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